Tuesday, September 30, 2008

A Sparrow Fell

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be over-tanners. Do you need more raw sienna in your life? No! You don't! Just a little will do! I shudder to share what happens when skin tones go bad. No really, I do shudder. Behold. The Horror:

.... pumpkin face here to wish you a happy October! There's new pics of Rose Window and Coventry Carol below.

A good listening accompaniment is Hawkmoon 269 (all of it) by U2. Click here, press play.

Yesterday evening as the sun was setting, Steve and I were playing catch in the front yard. I saw a sparrow zoom in- how confusing- that such a skilled creature would fly directly into the window glass. We ran to him. And as he fell immediately to the ground I thought maybe he would work his way through it- he flapped his wings, but stayed on his back. For less than a minute he tried to help himself. But then he was washed over by a relaxation, still breathing with his round chest rising tinier and tinier. Then his singing belly caved in. We put our hands around him and felt the warmth. Then he departed. With a swift elegance. As he lived, I suppose. Steve cradled him in a little towel and gave him to me. I brought him into my room. When I left and returned, I was hoping that as I opened the door he would be hopping around in my room singing. Surprise! But no, he had really left. An instantaneous being. His eyes- beneath them are two layers of creamed coffee colored lashes, and under them grow the tiniest feathers that are like the needles on a pine tree, yet even more delicate. It's been some time now and his eyes still shine. I painted him. What a beauty (even though his beauty is diminished by its majority with his breath gone). Steve chuckled, "So fragile. As if just running into a window scared the life out of him." Gave him back to the woods this morning under a big pine.

"If we had a keen vision of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel's heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence." -George Eliot

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