Three years ago, in March, the winter we spent in Michigan, while we were waiting to reverse S's aFib, I took many pictures through the clear window in the kitchen door. This was the one that best shows the feather pattern of the pileated woodpecker in flight. Just spectacular! This was the winter these birds came every day to my suet feeder, when they weren't tearing at the dead poplar tree on the left. All the birds stopped on this tree while they assessed the safety of the feeder, but only the pileated were steadily dismantling it. These were lovely, quiet winter days; no obligations, nowhere you were expected to go. Just the warm house, the clear windows, snow and the beautiful woods!
A Winter Morning By Ted Kooser
A farmhouse window far back from the highway
speaks to the darkness in a small, sure voice.
Against this stillness, only a kettle's whisper,
and against the starry cold, one small blue ring of flame.
From Delights & Shadows, Copper Canyon Press, 2004
I have a really great photo of a copper kettle, but I cannot find it tonight. I love the simplicity
of Ted Kooser's poetry. It makes me feel comfortable and understood. This is not to say that I do not love the mysteries of Transtromer and Adam Zagajewsji, and the wild lyricism of Derek Walcott, because I do!
The old dachshund gets weaker every day; she seems to have lost most of her zest for life, since she took that bad fall down the stairs. The vet finds no injury from that. So we are in a wait and see mode over the weekend.
No comments:
Post a Comment