'not me, not yet, not quite.'
Yesterday afternoon I sat outside
watching birds come and go.
There were not many birds, the usual suspects:
doves, blackbirds, chickadees,
cardinals,
summer tanagers, blue jays, nuthatches.
I could hear more birds in the woods, peewees,
and some I couldn't identify.
This morning I woke early, I went outside
with my flashlight. I shined it all around, and saw
a bright reflection. It was the reflection
of a whip-poor-will's eye. It quickly fluttered away.
Then I looked at the stars and a planet, which was Venus.
I looked at Venus through my binoculars.
I brought out my small telescope and looked at it. Her.
It was low on the horizon, still in the tree tops, almost.
Through the telescope
it looked like a perfect white-yellow pinpoint of light.
I also feed our cat, Ralph, and brushed him and fed him.
It was still dark, but not very dark. To the west
the moon was bright and low, though I couldn't see it for the trees.
Above, I watched a satellite pass over, it may have been the ISS,
but I doubt it, it was not bright enough.
I could hear frogs at the ponds. It was very still, no breeze,
and not cold and not warm. Just right. Now the kitchen clock
says 4:56, which is only an approximation.
~
There are no plans for today. Usually on Thursdays
I give my guitar lesson, but the schedule changed for the summer.
Now Tuesdays. We have had so many doctor's appointments,
that I think today we will stay home, but we also
want to plant flowers for the color, our yard is green, green, green,
but little color for the bees and butterflies.
We live on an island of grass and trees within the woods.
Woods all around. Woods and hills, no neighbors,
just us and the flora and fauna.
Ah. Now I hear the whip-poor-will. Maddening bird.
I don't know how she sleeps through it.
Soon all the birds will be singing, they sing most earnestly
in the morning, first practicing their song, then in all sincerity,
because you-know-what is at stake.
Now it's my turn, only instead of singing I yawn.
Time to go back to bed for an hour. This day has begun,
but not me, not yet, not quite.
Poetry by jim
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Written on 2017-06-09 at 12:17
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