Another Bonelli

Not 'another' as in yet again, mind you, but rather as 'different'. The usual blue-sky dome has been replace the past couple of days with a complex palette of greys, everything from a deep charcoal to an almost but not quite white. Cotton candy spinning around in those little carnival cookers, but someone forgot to add in the pink or blue food coloring. Imminent was a long procession, one pedal stroke following another, but little else. Rain seemed to be coming, though it was certainly not imminent during the morning hours. 

Hurry is a better word for this morning. It was seen in the Sheriff's helicopter taking off horizontal along the ground, a slight forward tilt to the rotors, before making a vertical leap. Birds were in a hurry flying maneuvers, along the stalk-tops of shoulder high dry grass, in their search for a morning meal. Or maybe it was simply play, aerial tag before being forced to hunker down. The fisherfolk on the lake, the party makers in Picnic Valley, the great encampment of scouts on the East Shore all exhibited some sense of hurry, of lets get things going before it is too late.







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