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...
Walden Pond SR, Concord, Massachusetts
Coming to the beavers' homestead.
With the known symbols of their presence.
Messy world.
Turtles and ducks. Plants and birds.
They are all here
because the beavers have created a living space for them.
And for doing that,
they have earned a title Keystone Species.
THERE, swimming...
Walden Pond, Concord, Massachusetts
Just a Pond... and a tree.
Knock, knock, knock...
With a nut.
A step and a run.
Still here.
Rising,
to the top,
and down.
Round and around, to the center.
And around...
Walden Pond, Concord, Massachusetts
Warm days have arrived.
Snowflakes are dissolving, not leaving, just changing.
Do I see them ?
In the rising bubbles of the melting crystals.
In the unveiled earth patches.
Watering the woods.
Do I see them in this baby pine ?...
Walden Pond, Concord, Massachusetts
When the Sun starts coming back, the whole story begins again.
Everything alive is affected
because the Sun is energy and energy sparks life.
Even before the science took us over,
and explained,
we had carried this belief in our souls.
How could we not ?
The light, the warmth, the being.
The Sun has always been part and parcel of ourselves.
Deeply implanted,
and personified through the stories.
I admire IT and fear IT at the same time.
On this day of ITS return...
Walden Pond, Concord, Massachusetts
Anytime I step into the woods, there is this feeling that I am being watched.
From the branches, behind the rocks and trunks, inside the bushes.
These eyes.
Every so often I see them, more often I don't,
but I know
they are there...
Walden Pond, Concord, Massachusetts
TOGETHER, to this day...
Cold days keep the snow light and fluffy.
Sculpted personas abound, and
the unseen are present.
Each one molds its own path,
some hurry along, others crisscross, but never meet.
It looks like all of them keep going on purpose,
with a joy of being that transpires through.
I wonder if the traces of our steps feel the same way ?
What a JOURNEY !
