Sailor Manyo Yamabuki

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On another note, I couldn’t sleep last night and, when the sun rose, I saw that the clouds were turning all kinds of pinks and were layered dramatically, so I decided to take a quick walk to the park.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I saw what I think was an eagle.

I saw the sun warm the sky,

and turn the mountains, still snowy from the last storm, rosy and coral.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I saw the sun burst slowly over the horizon,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and turn the trees to copper.

 

And I saw a small pyramid of balls, sparkling with frost.

   

I couldn’t read the note and, with the corona virus still rampaging, I didn’t dare touch it, but I think it was meant as a gift to encourage people who come to the park to enjoy.

I got scolded thoroughly by a raven,

and made my way home, where I found the grape hyacinths had emerged and were tingling with rime.

And then, as I turned to go in the house, I heard a goldfinch singing in our locust tree. I searched for it,
but it was tiny and high up in the branches. In those moments of searching, the sun inched up behind me, and then there it was, yellow-gold in the morning light, and I couldn’t get a decent photo of it. But the suddenness of the bird’s vivid visibility was like a revelation of something crossing from another world. First it was merely sound, beautiful sound, and then it was a gift of colour and light serenading the neighbourhood from our backyard.

Maybe it means something, this bird and its song in the morning. To me, it was enough on its own, a moment that transported my thoughts to a respite of loveliness. 

Eventually, though, I do hope to get a better photo.