The Crows are Back

The crows are back. They haven’t been here in years. Some say it was the bird flue that got them, but whatever is was we were happy without them. This year, however, they returned, and we were not happy to see a half-dozen of them on the front lawn, pecking away. Not that I don’t like birds: we have a number of sparrows and things flying around the yards, and I keep a feeder out back for the smaller ones.

But crows are different. I go out front to get the paper at 5:30 in the morning, and the crow walks slowly to the opposite side of the yard, with the insolent eye of the gangster.

“Sure, mister, I’ll get out of your way. But I’m keeping my eye on you.”

The crow cries sharp


The flock lights in a nearby tree

                       and plots indignities

                                            on nearby outdoor diners

The crow is not the lowland farmer

                      faithfully turning the field with his spade

but the Norse chief standing

                      in the prow of the raider boat

the crew carefully shipping the oars

                      and readying the swords and lances

Crow photo:
Licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

The Dream Away Lodge: the Obsession Continues

I’ve continued my obsession with the Dream Away Lodge with this little song. My song writing career is hampered by a complete inability to sing, but hey … I don’t let that stop me! Here are my lyrics to “Dream Away Lodge”. I’m searching for the right music … I envision it as a slow waltz …

Feel free to contribute to music and/or lyrics. If chosen, we’ll split the writing credits when it hits the big time 🙂

Dream Away Lodge

Follow the ghost of the Albany stage
As it climbs through the late evening fog
Swaying it’s way through the old Berkshire hills
Up to the Dream Away Lodge

Gray haired musicians play pining love songs
Diners talk while friends laugh at the bar
Children chase fire flies out on the lawn
In the glow of the dream away lodge


History and mystery are these towns’ stock in trade
It’s the tourists that pay all the bills
When the Tanglewood crowd has returned to New York
The fiddles float soft through the hills

The roads of the Berkshires are paths through an ocean
Darkness starts thirty feet from the road
The hearts of the people are warmed by the flowers
And tied to the earth by their grandparents stones


Dog Walking

The simplest things can bring such pleasure. For us walking the dog is a way to connect with our neighborhood and ourselves.

Dog walking

We’re talking
Tail Wagging
No Squawking

Legs moving
Smelly bagging
Speed improving
No nagging

Morning greeting
Asphalt heating
Wet grass breathing
Neighbor meeting

Hips rocking
We’re talking
Tail wagging
Dog walking