These past few days, I’ve been musing about things almost seen. When I went for my morning walk 2 days ago, I heard sirens blaring from the nearby street. In Chicago, I heard sirens all the time, especially in my last apartment which was down the street from several nursing homes. Here in Loveland, sirens are a more occasional sound.
Another sound followed the siren sound–it sounded similar but ended more like a howl. I thought it must be the coyotes that live in the nature preserve where I was walking. I’d never seen them, but I’d read the flyer that said they lived in the area and what to do if they attacked (don’t run–fight back!).
As I listened and navigated the winding, hilly trail, I saw a man not too far ahead of me looking across the field. I saw a big grey bird sitting in a dead tree. But when I caught up with him, he said he had seen the coyotes and pointed to some bushes where they had come –and gone back into–before I got there.
I asked him if he knew what kind of bird sat in the dead tree. He hadn’t seen it before. and he wasn’t sure–maybe a heron. It looked like a heron, but I’d never seen one sitting in a tree!
Anyhow, it led to musings about things almost seen.
This is the painting I’ve been working on–I often feel like I almost capture the images I see in my imagination–maybe I should call them things almost painted!
And since it’s Poetry Friday…
Yes, It’s Poetry Friday once again. Many thanks to Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect for hosting this week. She wrote about triolets (a poetry form, not related to violets as far as I know). So I thought I’d try my hand at a triolet–not sure how much I like it, but it’s good to try something new. The rhyme scheme for this poetic form is ABaAabAB (the capitalized letters represent repeated lines–see below)
Things almost seen, a moment too late
Or maybe too soon, I’ll never know
Coyotes protesting the siren’s loud grate
Things almost seen, a moment too late.
A cloud of gnats fly ‘round my pate.
Things almost seen, a moment too late
Before I spot the source, the bird’s song dissipates
Tall, grey bird sitting on dead tree’s bough.
Things almost seen, a moment too late
Or maybe too soon, I’ll never know
Things almost seen–can you see the grey bird in the photo–I can’t really, but it’s there
