Cardinal in August

Cardinal in August

Above a rhythmic cadence of crickets
the young cardinal tries his song
one note at a time,
an adolescent, tentative disruption
of the peaceful pulse.

As darkness yields slowly
to pre-dawn light,
the crickets fade.

The cardinal, more confident,
repeats two
then three,
now four
notes of his song.

This space
and gentle quiet
opens to a voice
remarkably coming from him.

In this way
he reveals and repeats
the notes that unfold sleep,
memory, and longing in me.

Cardinal_det_500px
Detail, Spring with Cardinal  (natural pigments on silk) 

© Kit Eastman

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The Robins

I have a thing for Robins. They are a symbol of the joy I feel in spring after the long, dark winter. A certain robin, the same one for 3 or 4 years, has raised, along with her mate, 2-3 broods every year. She builds her nest on top of a sheltered post on our open back porch. I lure her back to this spot with raisins. She and her mate show up in April, “asking” for raisins with a plucky stance as they gaze up at me through the glass of the kitchen door. In feeding them this occasional treat, I always remember my mother, who started this activity many years ago and derived great pleasure from it, as I now do. Both male and female are devoted and energetic parents.

It is now mid-July, and I think the Robins have moved on for the summer.

These short days

Days have been gray and short …

… yet colors are beautifully subtle with no snow to cover them. There is not much that stirs on the shore of my little lake, but sometimes I’m surprised. Yesterday I heard crows calling and looked up to see this red tailed hawk. It seemed unperturbed.

I added two items (in the theme of rabbits – moons – greens) to my shop.