In the park, the crows are cross. Firstly, because I have my camera; secondly, because the gulls get the food; and thirdly, because neighbouring crows are around.
The gulls are excited. They see me and I walk under a whirlwind of wings.
I try to feed the crows, but the gulls are too quick. As ever, though, hasty is seldom tidy.
Nice nosedive.
At home, the cats want constant attention. Food, body to lie on, battery-powered toy on. All at the same time.
And me? The Crone?
Last night, I dreamt of the love of my life. He was smiling, his eyes crinkled and gleaming.
I get up. The silence of the house. The emptiness. I never expected this. I never planned for this.
Yer man David Abram, he imagines the line of sound circling the earth at sun up and sun down, the dawn chorus and the evening chorus. The winged ones as the heavenly chorus, the real world angels.
I go outside. Look up. Open my ears.
Good post xx