‘Where is the life we have lost in the living?’ I picked up a T.S.Eliot the other day anthology and it opened to the Chorus’ for ‘The Rock’ that contains this quote. I have been pondering.
Picture. Sitting on a dock, the afternoon is hot and humid. A breeze picks up and the swells roll the the wooden platform. A loon preens in the sun not far away. And eaglet fledged. One remains behind. A parent looms from another tree. There is much ‘to do’ in their incongruous shrill whistle as they communicate. The airborne eaglet tests its wings and is ignominiously harassed by a swallow. I don’t think he has figured out how to land yet. He catches a thermal updraft and disappears into the scudding cumulus clouds. Wonder. Do they naturally know how to hunt and find food or will it return to the nest to be fed by a parent for a while? I don’t have a lens to capture these marvels. Behind the lens are are we living or is it life? Just sitting there in the sensual movement is is it living or life? I did not see the eagle return.
Two males, a bluebird and a hummingbird. Side by side on the power line. Glowing I the morning sun.