Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E B Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .

Friday, September 14, 2007

Gnome at An End

This morning a dove took flight. I felt happy for her, except that she needs to remain in her cage to recover from her head trauma. She surprised me with her nimble and sudden escape; the moment I opened her little cage door, she jumped from her perch and flew under my hand. Second thing I thought: Close all three doors. Third thing: She seems safe under the table, so I cleaned her cage, brought fresh food and water, then proceeded to thinking about action number four: Capture her. So I gently walked toward her, which frightened her, of course, so she jumped up and flapped her wings to move away from me. She stopped at a corner. So I had to then proceed to action number five, but I didn't know how to capture her. I thought of myself as MUCH smarter than this -- plunging into things not having thought them through. Just then, instinct over-powered me; my hands zoomed toward the dove and grasped her gently. I held her by her legs to allow her to flap her wings. She soon calmed down and returned to her cage with nary a flap or chirp.

The crisis of the week began a couple of days ago when BirdManBob found a case of pox in Flight Room A. The birds in there -- several mockingbirds, a few bluejays and some sparrows and doves -- must remain quarantined in the same room for the next couple of weeks.
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Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin

JMHawley Gave Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On

Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.