Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Holding Up Chickadees

The year's first firefly observed on June 9. Make a note. One or two in the horse paddock next door. But none last night when Jeremiah and I went out to look, wondering should we trap some. Maybe they knew storms were coming. Thunder and lightening for over an hour, until all the kids were awake and reading in the living room. Waiting it out. Chrisoula clucks putting Fionnghuala down to sleep. Everyone in the house is sunburned but me. I can't tell you what I dreamed, only that before falling asleep it was crows on the brain. "What do crows do that you like so much?"

For the first morning in many, I can barely lurch through the twenty sentences. Or any writing at all. Well, that's not true. Blue Jays, a breeze, Wendy yelling at her dogs. Brown puddles of rain silver at the edges where the feeder turns slowly, holding up chickadees. Already I'm on the second cup of coffee. What does that tell you? It tells you nothing unless you've got the back story.

Listen: my body is shaped like a question mark and my mind is always removed from it.

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