I was thinking today of birds. This little volume is a gem, a collection of Chinese flower-and-bird paintings.
It isn't my style, and I've never been a great admirer of Asian art (I do enjoy their pottery very much!), but these little strokes of paint that form feathers and beaks are more birdlike than the birds I see at the feeder.
Even when I look at the images dead on, I feel as if my head isn't on quite straight because the bird seems like it ought to be in my peripheral vision, flitting past my sight.
One thing led to another and I sought out Messiaen's Oiseaux Exotiques, a quirky beauty that really should be performed more often. While that was playing I replenished the bird seed in the feeder hanging from my back porch. Anyway, I was in a bird frame of mind for a good part of today and I had thought it had worn off....
Then, while 'browsing the blogs,' I came across an insightful post entitled "hope as a verb." And it reminded me of hope as a noun in Emily Dickinson's little-great poem. Beautiful.
All in all, too many coincidences in a single day for me not to blog about it.