This violet was growing out of an old wall when I spotted it.
In the window of a hairdresser's, a woman, whose hair is being attended to, watches herself in the mirror. Her expression is composed of a wistful smile, a mixture of regret and compassion for the person she sees looking back at her.
Nest building proceeds. The crow, which I assume is the female is busy this morning under the trees in the Grove. She adds to the bundle of twigs in her beak, with the determination that I noted the other day, and which contrasted in so marked a manner to the idle collecting behaviour of the bird which I took to be the male. And today, where is the male? Not be seen at all.
I know that smile.
That is a gorgeous picture!
In vox pop interviews on TV news the talking mouths are identified with a caption often so compressed that the live person shrinks to a single function. Thus:
I mention this because I notice on Marja-Leena's blog you too have achieved a similar, though rather more desirable, compressed status:
Oh yes, I very much enjoyed reading your poem at Marja-Leena's place!
Thanks for comments. Yes, BB, I suppose the one word job description is a bit of surprise. But on the whole I like it, and won't complain.
An impassive scowl is the best I can manage. I frequent hairdressers as little as possible.
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