Allowance
October 2, 2015 § 27 Comments
I am seen
by the knowing yellow eye
and allowed audience
leaf and twig
where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry
October 2, 2015 § 27 Comments
I am seen
by the knowing yellow eye
and allowed audience
Good shot
LikeLike
Lovely photo, good words…they made me smile for that is exactly how it feels sometimes, those very special times that capture moments like this. Thank you for this.
LikeLike
Just beautiful. Thanks for capturing and sharing, x
LikeLike
Thanks for finding such a beautiful bird.
LikeLike
What a special moment, and so well captured in words and picture. Bravo.
LikeLike
Great photo, like it very much.
LikeLike
Nice photo and poem!
LikeLike
Herons are beautifully, graceful birds that hunt stealthfully and fly with an ease of wing. Good work … again!
LikeLike
Jaw-dropping image. Thank you.
LikeLike
Not liking the spotlight, this truly is a great photo. It seems most times you are allowed glimpses and even good long stares, but as soon as you try and capture it with a click of the camera, off they fly! Beautiful shot!
LikeLike
Gorgeous! Who doesn’t love herons, you know? I didn’t expect to see one today — thank you for that gift!
LikeLike
Sweet!
LikeLike
Always hidden in plain sight! 🙂
On Fri, Oct 2, 2015 at 4:20 AM, leaf and twig wrote:
> seedbud posted: ” I am seen by the knowing yellow eye and allowed > audience”
LikeLike
Stunning photo! WOW! 🙂
LikeLike
superb
LikeLike
Great!
LikeLike
Great photo and words, Catherine! 🙂 ❤
LikeLike
Love this one!
LikeLike
We see what we want to see and what a beauty i’ve seen in this post. Couldn’t say it better with words. Beautiful.
LikeLike
Thanks!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome.
LikeLike
Great image and poetry
LikeLike
beautifully said
LikeLike
Very nice and beautiful.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Awesome! I often feel just like that when watching them. You look like you were pretty close too!
LikeLiked by 1 person
what an amazing bird
LikeLike
Wonderful photo and comment. Here’s a sonnet I wrote about a GBH:
Great Blue
Dawn spread a sheet of satin on the glass
canal and lake and towpath in between.
My walk was interrupted by the scene
of his arrival from the marsh to grass.
I stopped stock still in case he wished to pass,
so I could watch him without being seen .
The wide splayed yellow fingers on the green…
How could such stick straw spindles ever last,
supporting elegance of gray blue girth?
Binoculars allowed him in my reach…
But yellow eyes at last discovered me.
A lift of neck and feather, shrug of mirth,
one blase glance and off the grainy beach,
into the air of swallowed memory.
LikeLike