All posts by spanishwoods

Awe

blue skies and green leaves
photo by Sylvia

For many days in a row, I found bloody feathers beneath a tree. I wondered if the culprit was a hawk, or an owl, or a cat. And then yesterday, as I was coming home from the little market down the street, I saw a small sparrow hawk with the flight precision of a fighter pilot, swoop under the tree. Immediately the tree emptied of other birds with shrill shrieks and frenetic chaos.

Walking over for a closer look, I watched him. It occurred to me that maybe I should be repulsed, or saddened or even frightened. But I was awe-struck. He looked down at me, straight into my eyes and I nodded, the tiniest little head nod, before turning away.

Recently

best of doobies
photo by Sylvia

strawberry and mango popsicles
blue herons in the early morning and small hawks in the afternoon
this book: A Three Dog Life, by Abigail Thomas
cedar waxwings in the berry bushes
this song: Take Me in your Arms by the Doobie Brothers
the juice of swiss chard, cucumber, mint and apples
fairy lights in mason jars at night

jar w lights
photo by Sylvia

Lyrics: 4

sunset in mountain valley
photo by Sylvia

I am the eagle, I live in high country
In rocky cathedrals that reach to the sky
I am the hawk and there’s blood on my feathers
But time is still turning they soon will be dry
And all of those who see me, all who believe in me
Share in the freedom I feel when I fly
Come dance with the west wind and touch on the mountain tops
Sail over the canyons and up to the stars
And reach for the heavens and hope for the future
And all that we can be and not what we are

from the song Eagle and the Hawk by John Denver, 1971

Lyrics: 2

falls at ohio pyle
photo by Sylvia

Catch us now for I am your future
A kiss on the wind and we’ll make the land
Come over here to where When lingers,
Waiting in this empty world,
Waiting for Then, when the lifespray cools
For Now does ride in on the curl of the wave,
And you will dance with me in the sunlit pools
We are of the going water and the gone
We are of water in the holy land of water
And all that’s to come runs in
With the thrust on the strand

from the song, Jig of Life by Kate Bush, 1985