Breakfast

Breakfast. Bird catches Fish. Crab holding on to the fish tail. Double Jeopardy! September 12, 2020. 5:35 & 5:45 am. 60° F. Winds: Gusty. The Cove, Stamford, CT

Saturday Morning


Daybreak. September 5, 2020. 5:57 to 6:49 am. 63° F. Humidity: 73%. Wind: 7 mph. Gusts: 13 mph. Cloud Cover: 13%. The Cove, Stamford, CT

Sunday Morning

 


Daybreak. August 30, 2020. 5:55 to 6:15 am. 66° F. Humidity 76%. Wind: 11 mph. Gusts: 28 mph. Cloud Cover: 3%. The Cove, Stamford, CT

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

The Good News.

There’s no morning drive to Work. No 40 minute commute home in traffic.

There’s no one hour Metro North ride into the city for Manhattan meetings. No one hour return trip on packed commuter trains jostling for an open seat.  There’s no walk to/from the commuter trains in suffocating humidity.  As Jeffrey Eugenides puts it: “It was one of those humid days…you could feel it: the air wishing it was water.”

Today, the commute from Bed to Breakfast to Office is less than one minute. Air conditioning cools, a steady 71° degrees.

The Less Good News.

Work Hours: Up ~20% per day. Calls, emails, Zooms, conference calls. Add the pandemic anxiety to the tonic, and you have a giant Boa asphyxiating its prey, as I sit, sit, sit, and sit some more — from daybreak to late dinner, and again the next day, and the next and the next.  And the body, and the mind Scream: You’re sliding Pal, things gotta change. These Home Office walls are closing in.

The Pivot. [Read more…]

this is how I would…

The startled blue heron erupts out of its long-legged
inwardness and flies low to the pond over its
shadow. My eye flickers between its great sweep

of wing and its blurred mirror motion almost white
in the pond’s sky-shine. At the end of each wingbeat,
the long body dips toward its rising shadow. Now

the heron settles back down onto itself as far away
from me as the pond allows and I finish my walk half gangly,
half graceful thinking if I were a bird, this is how I’d fly.

~ Nils Peterson, “Blue Heron” from All the Marvelous Stuff (2019)


Notes: Poem via 3quarks Daily. Blue Heron photo: Pennington

MMWC*: Where the H*ll is my Breakfast?

baby-heron-cute-adorable


Source: teatimestories (baby blue Heron lookin’ like a pterodactyl). MMWC* = Monday Morning Wake-Up Call.

Things and Flesh

great egret, forest park

Maybe love is the Lord’s trap.
Maybe He sees us as
the tree leaning over the stream.
Perhaps He can’t experience
the difference between
our pain,
our loneliness,
and the heron flying
through the special silence at evening.

— Linda Gregg, closing lines to “The Center of Intent,” from Things and Flesh 


Linda Gregg, 71, is an American poet born in Suffern, NY.  She grew up in Marin County, California.  Her first book of poems, Too Bright to See, was published in 1981.  Her published books include Things and FleshChosen By The LionThe Sacraments of DesireAlmaToo Bright to SeeIn the Middle Distance, and All of it Singing. Her poems have also appeared in numerous literary magazines, including PloughsharesThe New Yorker, the Paris Review, the Kenyon Review, and the Atlantic Monthly.  She taught poetry at various schools and universities across the U.S. She has been living in New York City since 2006.


Source: Poem – Thank you A Poet Reflects. Photograph: Thank you Amy Buxton

T.G.I.F.: “How much more can a man take?”


fairy-wren: grey heron hitching a ride

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