My Spring Eyes

"A poet," says Hafiz,"is someone

Who can pour light into a cup,

Then raise it to nourish

Your beautiful parched, holy mouth."
Seriously, you must click on these two images.  There is a Canada Goose nesting in the Y of this enormous oak tree.  She is small compared to the huge trunk, but she is right there.  Believe it or not, but I saw her as I was driving by on Old Redwood Hwy(used-to-be- Highway 101).  Of course I had to flip one of my famous Uies(safely, of course) and go back to see if it were sane to believe my eyes.  Yep.  There she is.  Watching me watch her.  Go Away, lady.

The Calendulas escape from the vineyards.  He he he!  They have so much fun being everywhere!  By 4pm or there abouts, they are so tired, they fold up and nod in the afternoon breezes.
Wouldn't you know it?  The perfect purple is roadside, just waiting for Calendula orange to gather in perfect contrast!  Notice this; Nature gathers communities together with regard to how well they convey perfect beauty to our eyes!

Springtime has always made me giddy.  When I was in college, I would drop out every Spring Semester.  Yes.  That did create a problem or two, but no matter.  Northern California springs are murder on an artist... NO!  Let us re-phrase that:  Northern California's springtime is a feast for the artist.

My assignment for this week is to write my own fairy-tale, of sorts.  All that has been going through my head (which is already filled to the brim with flowers, and scents, and birds, and so much greengreengreen that it almost...) is kind of a country-western ballad with Thumbalina overtones.  Well, that sounds almost doable!  The invisable Little People in the woodshed are contributers, with their figs and shredded bark nests.  Yes.  This will be just fine.

If I ever don't complete a sentence

While we are together

Accept my apologies and try to understand

This sweet drunk thought.

Birds initially had no desire to fly,

What really happened was this:

God once sat close to them playing

Music.

When He left

They missed Him so much

Their great longing sprouted wings,

Needing to search the

Sky.

Listen,

Hafiz knows,

Nothing evolves us like

Love.

Whatever the season, BE bliss.

xoxoLC