Monthly Archives: April 2010

Through green-gold leaves backlit...

Through green-gold leaves backlit by the sun, a scarlet flame and the slow, newspaper flap of black and white: pileated. The Good God Bird.

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When I come out, I find my chair...

When I come out, I find my chair turned to the wall, two jets taking their trails along with them into the west, the sun’s flaming sword.

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Windy at sunrise, and the thermometer...

Windy at sunrise, and the thermometer’s arrow just past 32. I scan the low spots for frost, thinking about the oaks’ Rapunzel blooms.

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A groundhog emerges from the stream...

A groundhog emerges from the stream and climbs the roadbank. I glance away for a moment and a turkey takes his place, shining like obsidian.

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Drum of rain on the roof and the...

Drum of rain on the roof and the birds sound distant—robin, field sparrow, cowbird—the world greener than it’s been in seven months.

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Sometime past 7:30, the birds...

Sometime past 7:30, the birds fall silent for half a minute and there’s only fog, a slow drip from leaves no larger than squirrels’ ears.

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Chipping sparrows are mating on...

Chipping sparrows are mating on top of the wall around my garden: she raises her tail and he rushes forward for the one-second cloacal kiss.

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Mid-morning sun: I’m almost...

Mid-morning sun: I’m almost baking until the wind blows, cool as midnight, the chitter of goldfinches interrupted by a raven’s cronk.

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Every day is the earth’s...

Every day is the earth’s birthday. The largest peony plant, though still uncurling, already sports ten small planets midwived by ants.

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A scarlet bough at the woods&#...

A scarlet bough at the woods’ edge: I peer through binoculars at the first red maple keys. Deer straggle by in their ragged spring coats.

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Sun filtered by thin cirrostratus...

Sun filtered by thin cirrostratus clouds. The hawk’s shadow is soft as a squirrel’s tail, but it still sets off all the alarms.

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What makes the spring peepers...

What makes the spring peepers start calling in the middle of a morning, with sun so strong I can see the faint pollen filming the floor?

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The French lilac whitening into...

The French lilac whitening into blossom, its once-smooth profile smashed by last October’s snowstorm, finally looks wild against the woods.

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A brief blaze of sun through a...

A brief blaze of sun through a hole in the clouds. The bridal wreath bush is in full bloom, measuring the wind with stiff white fingers.

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The mayapples next to the creek...

The mayapples next to the creek have opened their umbrellas. We do need rain. Already, the top branches of the crabapple have caught fire.

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Squirrels grapple on a skinny...

Squirrels grapple on a skinny branch 20 feet up. One falls to the ground with a loud plop and races off, sun shining through its tail.

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Thick ground fog, one degree below...

Thick ground fog, one degree below freezing. The trees grow sharper as the sun begins to blur. Please don’t flower yet, I tell the oaks.

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At 8:02 a patter of rain too brief...

At 8:02 a patter of rain too brief to even darken the sidewalk. Nuthatch, field sparrow. A crow bleats like a lamb with a hand on its neck.

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The Cooper’s hawk swoops...

The Cooper’s hawk swoops down from the woods’ edge into the ditch and dips his beak again and again in its cold clear blood.

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A groundhog among the daffodils...

A groundhog among the daffodils rears up on its haunches like the very large squirrel that it is. A tiger swallowtail careens past.

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Drifts of white on the springhouse...

Drifts of white on the springhouse roof: not fallen blossoms, but last night’s pellet snow. Tree creaks join the dawn chorus.

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Time has slowed again with the...

Time has slowed again with the return of cold weather. The bleeding-hearts in my garden are huddling on half-grown stems.

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The miniature daffodils around...

The miniature daffodils around the dog statue have shriveled in the night. Turkeys display at the edge of the field, reversible blooms.

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Shirtsleeves at dawn. I rub my...

Shirtsleeves at dawn. I rub my eyes at the new blossom-clouds, at green fogs of leaves. It’s too sudden, a premature ejaculation of spring.

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Bumblebees joust, and a sun-drugged...

Bumblebees joust, and a sun-drugged honeybee wanders the folds of my jeans. Spring’s parade devolves into a mob, everything blooming at once.

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Yellow at daybreak: forsythia,...

Yellow at daybreak: forsythia, daffodils, the spicebush by the springhouse, a flock of goldfinches… what else? The sun crests the ridge.

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A hermit thrush lands beside the...

A hermit thrush lands beside the porch and sings: that eldritch almost-whisper, spirit of the forest. Church bells. A distant chainsaw.

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Such a startling and ridiculous...

Such a startling and ridiculous sound, the turkey’s gobble—like gargling with marbles. And then a blue-headed vireo’s quiet soliloquy.

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Sunrise, and a red-winged blackbird...

Sunrise, and a red-winged blackbird calls twice: sound like a blood-shot sun half-submerged in dark feathers, part trill, part gurgle.

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The springhouse phoebe has a mate...

The springhouse phoebe has a mate. He sings from the crabapple while she flutters under the eaves, bill thrusting into the old nest.

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