“I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.”
James Wright (1927-1980), U.S. poet. Lying on a Hammock at William Duffy's Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota (l. 11-12). . . New Oxford Book of American Verse, The. Richard Ellmann, ed. (1976) Oxford University Press.
TIME: 1:44 PM
PLACE: S. 77th Street
SUBJECT: Hawk
Today started out a little slowly and painfully for me. I had attended an informal 25 year class reunion last night and did not get home and to bed until 4am this morning. The way I felt when I crawled out of bed at 9am just reinforced the fact that I am definitely NOT 18 anymore *ahem*. At noon, my Aunt Alice – my mother’s older sister - had a 75th birthday celebration at her daughter’s home. It was overcast, but was warm and even though rain was in the forecast, none appeared, so it was very pleasant sitting outside in my cousin’s backyard and chatting with the relatives. It also helped that I was feeling better from my previous night’s escapades.
1 comment:
Nice! I tried to get a shot of a hawk a few days ago, with no luck. they move too fast! :)
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