A better start today
Sep. 5th, 2003 12:37 pmI saw the flowers on Kingsmill Avenue in slanted light at 8:15.
In the park I heard voices I've missed for weeks: a grosbeak's nasal cry, a great-crested flyctacher's insistent wheep! A waxwing crowd of gentle, gregarious whistles bustled from one treetop to the next. Two chickadees on a mullein stalk told me a richer tale than usual: "Chick-a-burble!"
Beside the river I befriended a black cat with tiny green burrs dotting her coat. I know where she lives. She had wandered far. We kept company for a hundred metres before she left the trail, blending into the undergrowth. We must each stick to our own path, enjoying pleasure while we may, but not letting it distract us.



In the park I heard voices I've missed for weeks: a grosbeak's nasal cry, a great-crested flyctacher's insistent wheep! A waxwing crowd of gentle, gregarious whistles bustled from one treetop to the next. Two chickadees on a mullein stalk told me a richer tale than usual: "Chick-a-burble!"
Beside the river I befriended a black cat with tiny green burrs dotting her coat. I know where she lives. She had wandered far. We kept company for a hundred metres before she left the trail, blending into the undergrowth. We must each stick to our own path, enjoying pleasure while we may, but not letting it distract us.


