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  • Writer's pictureSam Baker

Day 104 isolation

there must of been rain last night the ground is wet. I slept through it. clouds are gray breaking to blue and other blues. some whites. some silvers. a slight pink with orange. the grass is shining sparkling with silver and stark white. Titanium white. the tree trunks are simple dark extrusions coming from a complex dense place below. simple on the junction with the earth. more elaborate above. the bird feeders are quiet. one sparrow. sitting as if thinking. as if in meditation. Occasionally eating

absent fervor. As if at a seed tasting party.

it is not hot yet.

something happened in the night. Something happens in all nights. Many things. but last night- rain was added to the usual night happenings.

i took my coffee and walked about just after i got out of bed. In the fields that lie atop the Llano Uplift. This thin veneer of life above the now cooled burning rock. Remnants of a great boiling then a great cooling.

Night is a magician- changing the landscape. changing both seen and unseen. things go bump. in this other world. creatures feed, they live their lives in darkness. then retire at dawn. snakes move. flowers bloom. Foxes tiptoe.

my job this morning is to survey. to observe. to be aware of how the night prepares the day. How it births the day.

Genesis 1


3 And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.

4 And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness.

5 And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day.

Before the dawn was the dark. and from the dark appeared the light. Then light receded back to dark. Night births day. Day then rests in dark.

A night bird called incessantly at 3:53.

a neighbor told me they heard a rabbit scream for 10 minutes a few nights ago. They guessed it was caught by a rattle snake and killed slowly. They talked about the screams. They were disturbing.

brush grows fastest on the land. mesquite. it shoots up. the speed of bamboo when it is small. bee brush clumps and grows. it has a wonderful smell when it blooms.

johnson grass has grown up around he brush pile. it is home to many birds. It is home to flocking birds. 100 yards away, I can t see what kind of birds they are. They disappear into the Johnson grass where the moving feather tops disclose their interior movement.

then as if on cue. like a herd of wild ponies. they fly out.

Red winged black birds.

I think they are red wings.

morning acrylic on paper


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