The short-eared owls overwinter, make do with the immigrant harrier hawks hovering alongside them, each drawing different size loops in the air. And there are the gray ghosts who’ve finished making their mating dance, busy earning their keep, building nests stem by stem. This morning, there seems to be enough room for us all as the deer make their quiet passage to the near-frozen creek. It is early, just enough light to see and I’m staring like someone focused on what moves before them, but I look blankly and in my blankness think of you. Thanks for reading Kevin Swanwick, in Praise of Folly!
Think of you
The short-eared owls overwinter, make do with the immigrant harrier hawks hovering alongside them, each drawing different size loops in the air. And there are the gray ghosts who’ve finished making their mating dance, busy earning their keep, building nests stem by stem. This morning, there seems to be enough room for us all as the deer make their quiet passage to the near-frozen creek. It is early, just enough light to see and I’m staring like someone focused on what moves before them, but I look blankly and in my blankness think of you. Thanks for reading Kevin Swanwick, in Praise of Folly!