A cold sunrise.

The nest above the old windmill is likely that of an Osprey, but I’m not sure of that yet as I’ve just discovered it. There is, however, a large lake not much more than a mile from this location. Perhaps later on this spring, I’ll see who the occupants are.

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3 Responses to Dawn

  1. pdlyons says:

    looks like a great place for wandering.

    • masqua says:

      You’ve made me think of Yeats and his epic poem ‘The Wanderings of Oisin’…

      We danced to where in the winding thicket
      The damask roses, bloom on bloom,
      Like crimson meteors hang in the gloom.
      And bending over them softly said,
      Bending over them in the dance,
      With a swift and friendly glance
      From dewy eyes: ‘Upon the dead
      Fall the leaves of other roses,
      On the dead dim earth encloses:
      But never, never on our graves,
      Heaped beside the glimmering waves,
      Shall fall the leaves of damask roses.
      For neither Death nor Change comes near us,
      And all listless hours fear us,
      And we fear no dawning morrow,
      Nor the grey wandering osprey Sorrow.’

      • pdlyons says:

        beautiful. Yeats is one of the most wonderful artist that i know of. lovely to get to read this bit. cheers

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