Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Green Lies The Sweet Prairie

The young Ospreys peered nervously out of their
nest in a pile of sticks on top of the tall pole.
The Western Grebes just kept calling like they were
being hunted by fishermen who had no other goal
than seeking out Walleye using green mussels for bait.

The blazing white Pelicans and the prancing Kill Deer
left the photographer constantly diverting his gaze from one
to the other, seeking random behavior bordering on queer.
His camera always at the ready, he was using the kit won
at a local contest. It was cool enough, sleek and very sedate.

But he bemoaned the loss of his old Canon A-1 and lens
which provided a flexibility and an artistry of use that
technology and automation just could not make amens.
So, he took his still large and complex camera and sat
down amongst the rushes, cattails and cactus roses to wait.

After two hours, the wait became worthy as two Bald Eagles
chased by a larger Golden Eagle came into view and swirled
through the hot air currents, their cries waking the Beagles
that had been sleeping at his side. Instantly they twirled
about and went on point.  He steadied his lens on the gate.

Careful now...there!  The perfect shot against the sun-lit cloud
and then they were suddenly gone as fast as they had appeared.
So now his day was worth all the time and effort.  The shroud
of gnats that had been dogging since early morning disappeared.
He now felt like all things were good and stress seemed to disapate.

All things now being equal, he walked around the side of the lake
just to see what he might see.  Calming the effect was as if it were
meant to be that way. Snapping him out of his morning reverie, awake
fully now to the sounds of nature, was the distinctive singing whir
of a bevy of Meadowlarks, their yellowness yanking him out of his state.

He laid back and just watched them flit about chasing insects.
So pretty and colorful, they occupied his mind for quite a while.
Here on the lake there were only positives, there were no rejects.
So, he laid on a matted down spot amongst the tall grasses fragile
as the morning breeze and contemplated life, love and his fate.

A fate that, because of his fiance rescuing him from a life of woe,
was on the upswing and that looked as if, save the overwhelming distance
separating them on the curve of the Earth' surface, it would end so
wonderfully in a marriage made in Heaven, and, in this instance,
one in which both parties loved and cherished each other as a true mate.

Here he was lying down amongst nature, the next best thing to lying
with his true love, and all he could think about was her.  SHE.
For she was truly the heroine from that old novel. Haggard-like, crying
over their seemingly endless separation, she could only ever BE.
Be like the Meadowlarks were. One with each other,  oneness innate.

And so he arose from his respite, and journeyed on around the big pond
breathing in all of nature and all of love simultaneously.  He now
resolved to end their separation no mater what!  He picked off a frond
and put it between his teeth and began to think of when, where and how.
Nature had taught him naught was more important or need more great.

His camera could not take a photograph of this scenario, it hung limply
at his side.  However, many scenes were seared forever into his memory.
He had visited her for three weeks earlier this year and it was simply
the best thing to have happened to him, sending him again into reverie.
He rose suddenly! Took careful aim with his camera, and, no debate,

this shot was one for the record books! Two lovebirds that did not wait
but took this opportunity, when all was seemingly one, to procreate.

Having definitely earned his paycheck for the week, it was getting late.
So, he packed up his gear and headed back to the Harley.  He had a date.
A date with his destiny and a future with his truly loved one to create.

mindbringer, 23 June 2015