The sun.
Green algea fanned out in wisps like the Northern Lights , floating on the surface of the river.
Wasps trapped & squirming & dying slowly.
A shabby work-horse, once white, canters by.
Purple lavender perfuming the Autumn.

Cold & grey.
The sun appears, and is gone again.
A band of blue in the distance, like distant hope.

A chestnut coloured work horse plods by, bobbing his head under the weight of his labour.

Oh, cold grey skies for breakfast.
The sun burns through.
A seagull screams at me as I eat my lunch.
A pine cone floats & bobs on the water.
The sky pries itself open to reveal its blue truth.
Sun shine for lunch.
The sound of water falling.

Sun rising & streaming right into my eyes & heart & life.
Crows crackling somewhere.
Open blue sky calling out.
Ma Tulsi growing in a shaft of morning sunlight, the quartz crystal at her base glowing.
Kitten whipped up by the visit of a band of nomadic sparrows.
A wasp buzzes around.
The day hovers between two seasons, the best of both somehow.
Later in the afternoon, the 1/4 moon rises in the south-eastern sky for a while.

Seagulls gathered in a tight flock, all facing the setting sun, a sign of something to come.
The sky is graded from blue in the east to a white haze in the west.
A warm 5pm breeze tickles & trembles the dry grass.
Pine boughs & branches bounce in the breeze above me.
Sap bubbles above my head on the trunk of the pine tree.
Dandelion stalks with no flower or seeds, the white button of emptiness at the center of the stalk has already discharged its duties for the season.
An endless end-of-summer moment.
9 pigeons poking through grass, hunting for supper I suppose.
Ah, the sharp smell of sticky pine sap on my fingertips.

Sunlight calls me out & into today, rising up with royal rightness,as he does.

Cricket in my path.
Pine sap sticky on my fingers.
Crickets chirping.
Lone duck quacking.
River blurbling.
Weeds flowing.
Heron fishing.
Bugs drowning.
Fish jumping.
Sun setting.
Wet weeds as thick as winter boots wrapped around my feet & ankles.
Light fading.
Skies blushing.
No wind, not even in the leaves of the tattle-taling silver birch.

Red-headed woodpecker hard @ work, tap-tap-tapping out tight codes of forest productivity.
Hawk flies from tree to tree & then soars off over the wide open field.
Majestic magnolia tree, wide leaves & sloping branches, with next springs' fragrant flowers sleeping somewhere deep inside.
Chipmunks chittering here & there.
The boreal forest speckled with sunlight & silence.
Nature as she was, once.