We awoke to a morning dampened by mist, bird song muted by opaque curtains of fog draped over the trees.
Are they near or far?
How strange the crows sound, unseen
in the morning fog.
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A poet and naturalist tries to find poetry in every day
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Blog Archive
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2012
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July
(27)
- July 31: Pollen
- July 30: Black holes
- July 29: Blueberries
- July 28: Katydid
- July 27: Late afternoon calm
- July 26: On the road
- July 25: Small dramas
- July 24: Morning ritual
- July 23: Ice cream
- July 19: Four crows
- July 18: Reminder
- July 17: Morning fog
- July 16: Roadside, Crow
- July 15: Child's play
- July 14: Misty mountains
- July 13: Pre-dawn
- July 12: Summer clouds
- July 11: Chimney swifts
- July 10: Beech Hill kind of afternoon
- July 9: Perfume of the leaves
- July 8: Flowering
- July 7: Old mill
- July 6: Fireflies
- July 5: Found poem
- July 3: Knee high by the 4th of July
- July 2: Rumblings
- July 1: Summer night
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July
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About Me
- Kristen Lindquist
- Camden, Maine
- I am a birder, poet, and writer most interested in animals, vegetables, and minerals, living in my hometown in Midcoast Maine.
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