It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day; the sky was clear and serene, and nature wore that rich and golden livery which we always associate with the idea of abundance. The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some trees of the tenderer kind had been nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange, purple, and scarlet.... As Ichabod jogged slowly on his way, his eye... ranged with delight over the treasures of jolly autumn. ~Washington Irving, "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"

Monday, March 10, 2008



I use to dream
That I could fly.
The sky would lift
Myself so high.
The blue air, white cloud,
Sky would ask
If I were bird, or cloud
Or leaf...
And I would laugh.

Brightness, blinding
Sight from seeing;
I would lift my winged arm
And catch some passing cloud.
The sun would play her
Scattered light
Upon the edges
Of my eyes...
And I would laugh.

Color prismed passing, air to air,
Would move reflecting fragments through the air.

Sun God, star cloud, blue white sky;
Why did I dream that I could fly?



castlewon said...

I don't have flying dreams any more, either, wonder myself why that is. (Love your migration photos)

Eve said...

I love your work. When is the book coming out?!!!