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I love a joke well-told.I love the solving of a riddle, that moment when the rigid, false facade collapses and an unexpected figure strides smiling forth.
I love:the migration of birds
the orioles squabbling in Costa Rican palms while juncos forfeit their taiga to claim these rich south woods of winter.
the dormancy of things that stay - creatures burrowed deep to sleep.
the fierce biding of stemless roots and leafless twigs.
the genius of a queen bee, hot within her cluster, sipping summer's honey.
. . . The whole love poem below the fold . . .
