...can be heard in an autumnal forest....
the bare trees echo..
the bare trees echo..
.. the poem of a crow.....
...................................................
There is a bird who by his coat,
And by the hoarseness of his note,
Might be supposed a crow.”
William Cowper
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2 comments:
Oh dearest friend,
You know, I love the crows...yesterday on my walk, there was a flock of them, cawing and cackling, and I just stopped to listen and watch. They make me laugh as they stand on the ground and HOP like a bunny across the street. I so wish I knew what they thought. This very first photo of the crow standing there with a little pad and pen, ready to write his poem is so adorable.....it has given me an idea.
I always leave your page having entered into the recesses of my mind, my child-like mind, and my adult mind that never wants to leave this magical world.
Enchanting and so peaceful :)Oh but what is that howl I hear :O
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