Masked

Appleton Farms, Ipswich, Massachusetts

       With a sparkle in that eye… 

Their World

Appleton Farms, Ipswich, Massachusetts

Spring is the time 

 when birds build nests and 

  become defensively aggressive towards the enemies,

  

   to protect their young.

 

Over there,

 high up in the tree crown,

  a Hawk is being harassed and forced to leave.

    

   We do not want you HERE... 

Here As Well

Tidmarsh, Plymouth, Massachusetts

Almost missed. 

 Minuscule brightness on the yellow petals.   

   Resting down there, near my boots... 

Wings Matter

Rocky Hill, Groton, Massachusetts

Ospreys are here.

 Circling above their nests,  

   inspiring... 

Awaken

Rocky Hill, Groton, Massachusetts

Along leafy wings.

  Through breaths of the moments,

    into the world of clouds.

   

 Stop,

  observe,   

    and listen to the songs of spring... 

Mutual Hearts

Great Brook Farm State Park, Carlisle, Massachusetts

Flowers, on their way.

 Coloring, attracting all the eyes.

  Some by chance, 

      others by intent.

 Those golden gifts, 

 

  to share and uphold their lives...

The Time to Build Nests

Great Brook Farm State Park, Carlisle, Massachusetts

Nothing much is going on along the cornfield.

  At least, it seems so.

 

   Except the swallows.

Turning, twisting, in their graceful flyovers

  just above our heads,  

     then landing on these muddy tracks.

    

    Doesn't go together, does it?

  

 Unless looking for the stuff for their nests.

    And 

      they are doing just that... 

Slowly

Wachusett Meadow, Princeton, Massachusetts

Into the real spring.

 The woods feel the energy coming from the young leaves.

  Surfacing inclines and declines,

   spreading brightness. 

  

 Shadows of the crowns are not yet here

    and

 little flowers know that it is now or never.

  

  So crisp and intact...

Like a Dance

Broadmoor, Natick, Massachusetts

When past and present blend into a single  picture.

 

  Without questions.

Reminds me on Alan Watts musings about life.

 

 It is a dance... 

 You go round and round...

 Like a music, also, 

 it is fulfilled in each moment of its course...

 You do not play a sonata in order to reach the final chord... 

Yet HERE ?

Walden Pond SR, Concord, Massachusetts

Still on the beaver's pond.

   

Look over there.

 Cannot believe. Chickadees on dead trees.

  Picking tangibles they value from the trunk hollows.

  

 Never could I expect to see them here.

  For me, 

    they are birds of lively crowns.

  Flitting playfully amongst sparkling needles.

 

 Yet HERE ?

 

 Can I see what they see? Not really.

 But it makes me think...