It is after the rain bearing clouds have blown by: after I hang the washing out and the white shower curtain reflects the sun to make me squint: I am indoors, running upstairs: I don't know why, I always run upstairs: I am looking for a thing, a coffee cup usually, and that is the point of first startlement.
A house sized shadow flies across the horses' field. I feel the noise.
Boy jumps out of his room. 'Two propellers,' he says, peering through windows for sign of the beast in flight. 'There it is.' He points. It is low and heavy: a cargo of something leaden. The shock of the shadow replays.

The warmth settles and there is no need to be indoors. I have coffee and paper and a working pen and sit at the pallet table writing serious notes when a second startlement occurs: smaller, with grey tone wing feathers splayed to slow its course: a predatory bird scouts the hedge, light and low, then curves a path into the greenery of the ash tree.


Geo. said…
Delightful photo! And I envy you running upstairs. I run upstair, then rest and run up the next stair and so on until I've run and rested up three or four steps, descend and lie down. Now it's 2 a.m. Excellent post!
Lisa Southard said…
2am is a very sensible time to be upstairs :-)

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