By Bob Gaydos

    Wouldst it were warmer there would have been waves on the pond ‘stead of windblown trees waving frantically at me. Bending and waving. Bending and waving. More and more …

   Somewhere, there’s a metaphor, I thought.

    And, I thought, were I a poet, like Kevin, Mary or Zack, this essay would rhyme or soar with visions of Greek something-or-others. But, alack, I’m not, so it won’t.

    But this morning there’s ice on the pond, wind in the trees, and, oh yes, so many hungry birds to feed.

    The first, a surprise. A finch, its head and shoulders shoved as far as birdly possible up the feeder looking for… food! Please! I thought for a minute she was stuck. Good luck. Startled by me, she withdrew and flew away, leaving me to my chore.

      Feeder filled, in they all flew. Back came the finch. Then, Blue Jays and sparrows and yellow-bellied whatnots, red-tufted thingamajigs, one stunning creature with a bright, red head, many more sparrows, a cardinal, a red-winged blackbird, something blue, something new, and, wrens? I don’t know, but look out below! Here come the blackbirds. As always, ever more.

     On to feeders two and three. They are, the birds, I can tell, thrilled to see me. Manners have quickly gone with the wind. First come, first served. Plenty for everybody, guys! Eat the droppings off the floor.

     It’s a happy, bustling, wind-blown scene. Mission accomplished. Back inside go I. But wait, what’s that I spy? ‘Tisn’t spring, but I’m pretty sure those are croci. Yep, pretty sure.

    Because, what the heck rhymes with crocuses?

                                   ***

(Note to my numerous poet and bird-watching friends: With profound respect, I humbly apologize for this. Don’t know what came over me. Meant all in fun and wishing I knew more about both.)

All the news in 500 words or less

By Bob Gaydos

Bob Gaydos

  Maybe it’s just me, but:

— Jada Pinkett Smith could’ve handled Chris Rock’s lame joke very well on her own. And besides, taking cues on appropriate behavior from movie stars is probably not sound social policy.

— Clarence Thomas should be permanently recused from the Supreme Court and his wife should be investigated for promoting an insurrection.

— Warming up to 41° from 23° is not my idea of spring.

— So is there a runner on second base to start the 10th inning this year, and, if so, how did he get there?

— Saying Merrick Garland has been an absolute disappointment as Attorney General pretty much says it all.

— Does anybody even go to the movies movies — where you have to pay for the seats and can’t bring your own popcorn — anymore?

— Alcohol-related deaths increased by 25% in the United States in the first year of Covid. Does that surprise you, trouble you or disturb your serenity in any way?

— Don’t think all those Republican senators who broke bread with Putin a few years back will be visiting Moscow this Fourth of July.

— Having 20/20 vision (thanks to cataract surgery) after nearly 8 decades of being almost legally blind, is a blessing I appreciate every day.

— If Congress makes daylight savings time standard (still doubtful), shouldn’t we then call it standard time? After all, we’re not really “saving“ time, we’re just moving it around to suit our convenience.

— My heart goes out to the brave, proud people of Ukraine. They will pay a tremendous price, but Putin has lost his war.

— It’s difficult to see Andrew Cuomo being elected governor again in New York, even with marijuana being legal.

     That’s it. Remember local newspapers? Yeah, they were cool, huh?

rjgaydos@gmail.com

Photography by Rich Gigli

Cooks Falls, N.Y.

Spring Embrace – (Gigli 1997)

 Silent colors of spring

 the eye can not hear.

 Pinions of birds in flight

 the ear can not see.

 Boundless sky radiant

 the hand can not touch.

 Oh ancient beauty in your fleeting moments awaken

 rest upon the withered soul embrace.

Tuscany

Where are the blue skies and the bright sun and the scent of warming earth? Where is the spring I so desire? I wait for it to walk down winter’s corridor, its footsteps sure and ringing. I wait for the sound of the key in the lock, the scrape of the door on the frozen earth, the invitation to go out, to find again the freedom of the fields, the limitless horizons, a world released from the chains of this winter’s snow and ice.

Where is this spring?

Outside my window, the snow is falling, and night is falling, and it feels like spring is falling, too. But I look at this painting of Tuscany, and I imagine the warmth of the sun, the peppery scent of the sunflowers, the sweep of the grass waving in a hot noon wind.

It’s coming.

This painting is oil on canvas, 24×48. Contact me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com for price and delivery information.