This morning the air was crisp, clear, as the
stream alongside the road ran Spring-clean, with bright green fronds waving
quietly in the small current.
The trees all about the woods and down by the
river still appear bare, with the exception of the Willows, with great long
golden streams of new leaf, and the rich crimson tops of all the Maples, which
are turning entire hillsides a subtle red hue.
Out on the farmers fields, it was chilly despite
the sun's warmth, and silent, except the song of the winds through the trees,
and the warbling and clicking and conversing of all the newly-settled-in
Starling .
The flock grows larger each day, as they excitedly greet and then catch up with
the new arrivals .
At times, I wonder if there are Starling Greeting Centers, or Robins, Cardinal
or Hawk, checking clipboards or laptops, informing new ones where their groups
are currently at rest.
In the meantime, the Hawks and Eagles, so recently so happily carousing and
crooning and courting, are nowhere to be seen, so I imagine they are making
concessions to each other daily, selecting best sites and materials and having
long bird discussion about nestling raising issues,as they excitedly await
their clutch.
Beneath my dry sneakers today and his happy furry paws,as he blissfully lost
and found and chased balls and I tried out jogging from various positions, I
watched the thick white clouds and the deep blue skies and the swift flowing
river , ran on the dry ground along into that remarkable thing we call Spring.
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