Saw the birds fly
home to evening roosting place... and felt nostalgia and sadness not named.
Perhaps I will leave it as such...
The evening has
come softly to me. While working I looked up and saw some birds fly in
formation to a place I know they will rest on the estuary. What made me well up
with nostalgia and sadness I am not so sure. The colours tonight also speak of
something deep and soft. A blue grey sky, striated with soft variations,
mountains a purple grey, the moistness in the air cloaking the distance with a
haze.
I was at the beach
this morning investigating the ROAR that has been present since last night,
somewhere out at sea there must have been storm, the waves crashing, biting
chunks out of the beach. Kelp strewn everywhere, ripped and dumped for the
shore dwellers to feast on. I am aware of the storms I have had in my life, and
how they do sometimes as the waves do, cause a crashing against inner shores. And
this sometimes will simply appear as a subtle knowledge when birds fly home to
roost. Ah, the mystery of life…
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