mud, water birds & coffee

I see a woodpecker, bright red head, feathers flies past my groggy field of vision as I sip morning coffee.  That bird thinks of himself and an empty belly as he cracks open the cherry bark.  Next, I look at the pond. What could be more wrapped in this word that embryos– growing more each day, looking for sustenance, and moving towards survival against difficult odds— predators, weather conditions, and survival of the fittest. IMG_2664

Wood frog eggs.   <ahref=””>Narcissism</a&gt;


About elainereardon

Poet, writer, gardener, herbalist, beginner artist- pottery, painting—communing with Spirits of the Forest and Field, bumping into magic, peeking around new corners.
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