When the soul lies down in the grass, the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase
each other doesn't make any sense.

- Rumi

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Another red head . . .

Perched before me in regal red , the pileated looks down at me
 in all his splendor.

Here in this forest we meet.

He who has flown here
 by way of wing.
Me by way of feet (five fingered).

Eye to eye . . . wing to wing .

We share this tree ,looking out at this beauty , together.

Lark

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