Thursday, December 19, 2013

Morning Coffee


Two mornings before the 2013 solstice and it is bitterly cold.  Just enough white snow dots the ground to reflect the last full moon of the year.  The only compensation is there is very little wind.  I think that I am the only warmblooded entity that is awake until...



...my perfect peacefulness is interrupted.  My concentration broken.  They are not a gaggle.  Even calling them a gang sounds too tame. They are a league of rabble rousers who egg each other on in the early gray morning before the truth of light.  They honk out epithets that make the sky blush pink.  They cajole and push rudely filling the quiet morning air like a distant asynchronous brass band.  Ever so slowly the noise grows and their energy builds until it explodes into the slap of wings against water and the wush of wing and air - a climax.  They depart for the farmers fields to scavenge more humbly for winters leavings with the sun chasing their tails.  Behind is left a mirrored silver surface with white down scattered like after-party confetti everywhere.  Such a mess!  Yet, I feel tenderness for them like a mother does her prodigal children, and I somehow wish I was brave enough to join.



Now the morning is hushed once again ever so briefly as the sun, like a waking, virtuous prostitute, smudges rouge across the horizon rubbing her face in innocent seduction and stretching out her golden arms.  The colors of petals and blood grow and wane as my coffee cools.  The silhouettes of leafless trees front like a black lace curtain before a show.





But this second act is over all too soon as a shiny golden light dresses the woods in soft grays and rust browns.  Some of the geese are quietly returning, their breasts bright white orbs catching the sun's rays.  They float silently and effortlessly like ghosts of their previous selves toward my dock.  But this time they are attended by the little buffleheads.  The smaller ducks glide in front and lead the armada as if they were small tugboats or royal escorts.


Then, due to a clamorous caw, I notice three large crows high in the trees above me.  They begin their concert, Act III, as they sit like sentinels in the trees along the river's edge claiming this territory in outrageous song.  My coffee is now cold and I have seen this act before so many times that I return to the warmth of the kitchen for my second cup.

19 comments:

joeh said...

Beautiful.

The Geese can be a nuisance around here...dirty and such...I still love them!

Brian Miller said...

a peaceful morning...even the rabble rousers...they remind us we are alive you know....

What's the story in Dalamory said...

You have a wonderful eye and a gracious manner towards the geese.

messymimi said...

You have an amazing way of painting the picture with your words. Lovely way to spend a morning.

Kat said...

Absolutely stunning, Tabor. Thank you for sharing with us.

Celia said...

Wow, a symphony of words and pictures, I can feel the notes deep inside. Lovely.

Linda Reeder said...

The beauty of nature that surrounds you is enhanced through your skillful description.

ellen abbott said...

Thank you. I am rarely awake at dawn.

Red said...

You described the geese to a tee. I could close my eyes and see and hear what is going on. I've heard it many times. You have some great sky pictures along with super descriptions.

Aisling said...

I LOVE your league of rabble rousers! Your photos are stunning. We have been experiencing such a gray palette of late, and the color of your photos is an anecdote to that deprivation! Thank you.

Granny Annie said...

I had to look up the word "asynchronous" but from now on that is how I shall describe the sounds my guinea fowl make. An asynchronous brass band. They are indeed my rabble rousers around here.

I love your morning and would welcome each sight and sound, as I know you do.

FOLKWAYS NOTEBOOK said...

What beautiful prose! You are a wonderful composer of words. Enjoyed the accompanying photos -- especially the night ones.

Kay said...

OH wow! This is such a beautiful post! I can just imagine the view and the cacophony of sounds.

kerrdelune said...

Tabor, this has to be one of the most wonderful posts ever written anywhere! I loved reading it and looking at the images.

Happy happy birthday to you!

Pauline said...

One could watch that show over and over and never tire of it! I love when you break out in poetic description.

One Woman's Journey - a journal being written from Woodhaven - her cottage in the woods. said...

Tabor, your words
amaze me
but I should by now
not be amazed
and truly know
what a gift you possess :)
You are good...

Mage said...

What fun you always have with this page. Thank you.

Bob Bushell said...

Dark morning, and without the coffee, but the pictures shows them in a different stage, beautiful Tabor.

Barbara Shallue said...

I loved sharing this morning with you, through your words and photos. Thank you!