MY FRIEND, the dove, is back again in the nest outside my study window. This is the third year she has made the hanging basket her nest; or rather, this the third year she has come back to the little bundle of twigs she gathered in the center of a jade plant. I feel certain she knows me. She sits on her eggs and looks at me through the window. I pause slightly when I pass under her nest on my way out of and into our house. I stopped this afternoon just long enough to take today's pictures. She didn't seem to mind. I'm not exactly sure why, but she is a comfort to me.
TO LOOK AT ANY THING
by John Moffitt

To look at any thing,
If you would know that thing,
You must look at it long:
To look at this green and say,
"I have seen spring in these
Woods," will not do - you must
Be the thing you see:
You must be the dark snakes of
Stems and ferny plumes of leaves,
You must enter in
To the small silences between
The leaves,
You must take your time
And touch the very peace
They issue from.