From September, 2017


— briefly, the male is back. i hear him first, then get to watch him. his sound and bluest  blue


— clay-colored thrush at the international center, on peach day north of interstate exit. it’s feeding alone, near some other thrushes on the westside of median by the green electrical equipment box they’ve build cup-shaped nests, lined them with mud. they’ve had speckled eggs in their nests. chicks hatching, both parents feeding and raising them. continuing their species through migrating long distances dispersing seeds of endangered plants at new sites, thrushes help eliminate inbreeding and increase the genetic diversity of local ecosystems. her too, without nest


there was an eclipse. there she’d love to have seen it one time there was one. up here the world fell dead silent. the light went even paler when she thinks of not looking into the blue of those blue eyes ever again she recall that quietness such prolonged fear of loss. then the loss  that frees the gaze for shifting