My moon-drunk eyes followed the shining black line of water up the canyon, across massive cliffs, and into the endless sky.
All tagged bird
My moon-drunk eyes followed the shining black line of water up the canyon, across massive cliffs, and into the endless sky.
I pulled on jeans and a soft sweatshirt and stepped out of the camper into the cool morning. Mist kissed my cheeks, chilled my hands.
My LA friends think I’m crazy. CA to NY.
My Mum is getting shorter so I pull it down and look up “red-backed shrike” in the index. On page 42 there is a delicate watercolour of a grey-blue and brown male, sharp beak, vicious reputation.
The hawk coasts on warm air currents, loose, wavy orbits around an invisible center. He climbs higher—a black speck in the swell of blue sky—his appearance surely a sign to guide me, comfort me, remind me of my place.
“How are you?” She’s walking friendly toward me in a Walmart-blue vest. I “hello” back. “Oh, I’m actually talking to the blue jay.”