Thursday, March 15, 2012

This Morning, Predawn

Scintilla Project. day2. When did you realize you were a grownup?
Wishing


This morning, predawn; a hobbled greybeard on the dew path to the fox hollow road; oakwood smoke in the air below the last half moon of winter; the slightest hint of Eos rising, beyond the eastern treetops, above the winding valley branch. Wrens and redbirds staccato in the maples before the crows take flight. All the players are in their proper place for the shooting star, brighter than the moon, from zenith to the valley in a second; a moment only, but in that flash, a greybeard becomes a boy again, a child of wonder, wishing on a star.

 He wishes for a walk upon a dew path to the fox hollow road.



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4 comments:

  1. Greybeard, I like that--especially since I will be a full blown greybeard myself soon enough. This piece is beautiful, as yours always are. Thank you sir for sharing so much of yourself here with us.

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  2. There is always something magical about a wishing star. May it always be so.

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  3. It's so beautiful. How do you do that?

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  4. And is there a name for us without the beards that feel the same?

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