A Day Job is Hard When Your Head Is Full of Ravens.
|Deconstructed Crow 1 - Fibonacci (in progress)|
|Yes, I'm messy.|
I sleep early, wake up earlier. Put on my baja shirt to go outside, crispy-frost grass under my boots.
YES - the air is icy and clear enough to see everything: Orion, the Sisters, the Twins, the Crab, the God of War; my namesake the Scorpion hides just under the horizon. I know where he is though he can't be seen, always opposite the hunter. When I was small I used to dream of being Cassiopeia in her chair.
My boots clop down the road where I visit my tree-friend, the one who tells me prophecies. He's sleeping. On the side of the road I find a curious stack I know to be tree bones butchered. There's a cold-resistant banana - Musa basjoo - that's popular and almost invasive around here. I've seen the carcasses before. This one must have been a grandfather.
In the yard I move the pitchfork, stick it in the ground just so when you stand between it and my red cottage door you're looking at the face in the trees.
Tomorrow is a day for pencils and ink.
|enhanced photo of Comet 46P/Wirtanen, in my yard|
A friend sent me a response to this post via email rather than in the comments section. She said: "Sometimes a raven is like a writing desk." And that was the BEST answer ever. This article gives several possible answers to the famous riddle.
See the finished Art - Deconstructed Corvid 1
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