Yesterday a juncture between wild and wilder. Down at Martha Washington park, me and the dog and the high whistle of an eagle. I scanned the tree tops, those birds like it high up and I couldn't find her. One cormorant in the gray water. Smaller birds, flickers and robins in the branches but no eagle. Was she on the beach? The dog ran back and forth. He needed coaxing to swim but he finally did.
The earth is opening and the plants are beginning again. The magnolias are cracking their buds, daffodils are beginning to bloom and the daphne, o the daphne. Their scent covers a city block. The vegetable starts are spindly things on the dining room table.
My sweet woods, Tiger Mountain with Felix. The older Asian man with his two fat dogs, a shar pei and a cocker spaniel. I've seen him several times. Sometimes he's doing trail maintenance with a folding saw and heavy gloves. I talked to him this time and his disclaimer about the dogs, "they belong to my son". I told him I noticed his trail work and he said he'd been coming for 16 years. The State wanted him to sign a paper for his work but he's blind so he said no. I have this idea that he goes every day and his feet know the way so he doesn't need to see but o, the green of spring this beautiful earth.