Beautiful poem, Teresa. August is a bit quiet in the surrounding fields here this year. There are always quail families and an indignant jay that shouts from the privet --demanding I refill the birdbath-- but most of the critters have gone off to find water.
Thank you ... we are getting much needed rain, but a walk in the meadow is so alive with sounds, a million insects singing ... not to mention the birds ... Blue jays can get kinda cranky. :)
We're not nearly to our late summer -- not yet. That comes in September. But the poem is perfect, and reminds me of the red-winged blackbirds that will begin arriving in time: filling our meadows with song.
It is most definitely waning here ... I haven't seen the red winged blackbirds in a while, hope they still congregate in my big Norway pine before leaving... what a treat ... :)
If we listen the natural world will always have a story to tell us. Any time of day, any season, any year!
It is ongoing ... once we make ourselves aware it's a never ending song ... :)
" . . . the world's song rising from the meadow" Perfect. I took an early, misty walk around our little corner of the world this morning and this is exactly what I felt but could not say, Teresa. The crickets are calling and a few jays were having a conversation. I felt with a definite certainty that shifting of seasons beginning. Lovely image. Looks like a tapestry.
Thank you so much, dear Penny ... autumn is on it's way ... slowly but surely ... It is a section of Japanese(?) screen. could not find attribution for it ... but it seemed perfect somehow.
This is beautiful and reassuring. I've been listening to a lot of disturbing news about how we are destroying Earth, and the one place that can provide comfort is out in a spot where nature still thrives.
the sounds in the meadow the other day were magical ... so affirming
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