A clunk in the coop. Chickens getting settled. A sense of being part of a massive celebration, tiny brown insects, just born, piloting all around my face. I gaze through the tops of willows and over the lush canopy of four buckeyes grown together over the creek, into the sky. Darkly, the creek flows below, quieter and quieter as the days get warmer. A dog barks as if counting off after sunset. An oriole, out of view, sings. A western bluebird lands, then alights from the telephone wire. It’s this easy to free oneself at dusk, despite a temptation to scroll on a tiny computer, or to numb oneself in some other manner, as if one is unworthy of the freedom of this place.
I love that you are here, reading! thank you very much. I really appreciate you.
I love your thoughts and writing, Sally.