• The eastern horizon glows like the embers of a sacred fire. Chattering songbirds call for day. To the south, a dove mourns. 16 hrs ago
• Drizzle is a miserable word. The heavens lower, my mood is dour. A little spring and I would sing. The sun would turn me carefree as a bird. 2 days ago
• I open the back door and the wren flies at shin level. Is she nesting on the porch? Our cats are old but not that old. 4 days ago
• The dark spot high in the cherry swells like a lung, fanned wings, fanned tail, shrinks and resolves into a common grackle. 5 days ago
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