Thursday, March 19, 2009

The Mockingbird Sings At Midnight

which might be spy code, but really is just what's going on right now.

except, actually, it is one.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009


That morning I was out in the backyard glassesless and in my bed clothes. Which is to say, in my clothes from the day before, slept in.

The medium brown job in the northwest corner of the yard might have been any other medium brown job except it wasn't.

Turdy to my foggy warped lenses. Not a robin. I thought it might be a Varied, whom I'd been missing all winter. Except it wasn't.

The light played across my retinae like a hammer missing a nail.

It poked around the bamboo, then, over the fence and gone. Back inside I figured it out.


I must learn to appreciate these moments.