Friday, October 21, 2011
A hawk flying low to the ground. A ground covered in leaves, brown with red highlights. A group of shrubs sporting spring green, burnt orange of late fall, and bright yellow of early fall. Yesterday I lay down at the end of the crabapple grove and saw the world as blue, with pale white streaks at the edge of my vision, and a green fringe. The unmowed grasses looked as tall as buildings. Behind me a poplar cackled with the wind. Today a grounds keeper spread noise and air pollution around with the leaves, supposedly in the firm believe that the wind would not whisper by and move them back again.