Posted on February 17, 2018
By Michael Griffiths
Category: Wilden Marsh Nature Reserve
LOL a wee beasty.
A sign of lurking dangers, Sherry.
The stuff nightmares are made of!
A reminder to keep my eyes open and avoid similar holes in my head, Ellen. This is the exact spot I found a shot heron.
Reminds me of a poem by E. E. Cummings:
now two old ladies sit peacefully knitting,
and their names are sometimes and always
“i can’t understand what life could have seen in him” stitch
– counting always severely remarks; and her sister (supress-
ing a yawn)counters “o i don’t know; death’s rather attractive”
— “attractive!why how can you say such a thing?when i think
of my poor dear husband” – “now don’t be absurd:what i said was
‘rather attractive’,my dear;and you know very well that
never was very much more than attractive,never was
stunning”(a crash. Both jump) “good
heavens!” always exclaims “what
was that?” — “well here comes your daughter”
soothes sometimes;at which
death’s pretty young wife enters;wringing her hands,and wailing
“that terrible child!”— “what”(sometimes and always together
cry) “now?”— “my doll:my beautiful doll;the very
first doll you gave me mother(when i could scarcely
walk)with the eyes that opened and shut(you remember:
don’t you,auntie;we called her love)and i’ve treasured
her all these years,and today i went through a closet
looking for something;and opened up a box,and there she
lay:and when he saw her,he begged me to let him
hold her;just once:and i told him ‘mankind,be careful;
she’s terribly fragile:don’t break her,or mother’ll be angry’ “
and then(except for
the clicking of needles)there was silence
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