Monday, 20 September 2004

Pheasants in the Sun

Even pheasants scurry across the open fields with the sun on their plumage, echoing the color of the trees autumn coats.

Those trees that are not waving scary bony fingers and bare arms at me are beautiful, reds, yellows, orange and brown, with a smattering of green left on some.

We saw a flurry of scurrying pheasants hurrying across an open field of old beige cornstalks, the sun lit their plumage and reflected the rich autumn shades we could see in the nearby trees.

Sunday, 12 September 2004

SparrowHawk

Sparrowhawk orange breast and full of zest
Knows what his chicks like best
Watching hungering, tireless
Plucking from the air, morsels helpless
Against mighty claws defenseless
Fluttering feathers: yellow and blue
While in a hole orphaned gapes lessen
Slowly droop, lackluster eyes close
And quietly, another motherless brood dies