KITE IN FLIGHT

Sunday, January 6, 2013.  What random act of man and nature created this scene of  a bird of prey against a winter sky, flying high over the mountains?  Walking, walking, walking, I turn my head to the earth, not skyward, and I pass this image by, but I returned to it.  What a perfect reflection of what I did see that day, as red-tailed hawks soared over the park on a hunt or maybe just a territory review.  Would some Department of Transportation road painter be pleased that this was the result of her work?  This pebbly bubble of white, rough-edged for the mountains and textured snowy white for the sky, might not be what she had in mind.

MY EYE IS ON THE SPARROW

May 23, 2011. In death this little bird takes on a grace that maybe didn't exist in its short life. It's outstretched wing, fans into a cushion for its head, a graceful crown attesting to its holy place in our world. The tiny feet are poised as if to scamper away from the danger that it met in falling. The action of moving is still evident as it lays on the road to await what comes next, which to it is now inconsequential. I think that it still matters to us, but by now, I have also moved on from my consideration of its end.

Bird on a Wire

September 22, 2009. Tuesday night, haircut night. And I'm back in the East Village, close to Tompkins Square Park. High up on a signpost is this image. A bird perched on a branch, bent low and looking forward. It isn't warbling, its poised. Is it to strike, for flight, or rest? And is the dripping red as ominous as it portends and what statement is our artist making? I can't infer from what I see here. Maybe it is the expected gloom of winter coming with the first day of fall.