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, April 2, 2010

Nothing Happening (Yet)

Sitting in BirdManBob's office while Missi's Mom wrote up a request for a grant for funding a mew for Missi, I looked outside and saw a few Brown Headed Cowbirds. One sat on a branch huddling against the winds.
Soon BirdManBob breezed through the door of the Wild Bird Rescue Center. He had driven from the Humaine Society to meet with the TV lady for an interview. "Why?" asked Missi's Mom, looking up from her computer. "Because of baby bird season," replied BirdManBob. "But we don't have any baby birds yet." Indeed, though a storm downed trees and power lines last night, no nests were found. BirdManBob's theory might show this season as our least busy, after the unusually cold and damp winter we have endured, delaying the migration period. 

The TV lady visited with Missi, then had a glowing report on the six o'clock news. 

They showed Missi on the television, not only sitting on the TV Lady's hand, but eating one of her fave snacks, a worm. "Thanks, BirdManBob. Yum."

All things, like the wisteria, look gorgeous during springtime. 

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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.