memory wins

likely i can't muster as much
gratitude as i saw on
n&j's faces,they were
playing in the last patch of
snow out in backyard,

the closest i could get is for
sitting in a chair in backyard,
sun on face with eyes
closed for a second,

+ + +

have been meaning to mention a morning last week,where a couple hundred tiny birds(how do you count a spectacle like that)went streaming over my head. it was already so quiet and you heard almost nothing because it looked like most were gliding over buildings but you did hear a little something,
i think i compared it to the
sound of turning a page in a book,
and just today i read something in
thomas merton's 'sign of jonas' that
seemed related,
he's writing about a group of monks
leaving for a new foundation,or monastery:

'monks and brothers were milling around in front of the gatehouse, saying good-by in sign language and embracing one another according to the custom of the Order, and it sounded like wind in the leaves of the trees'