A squirrel descends an oak at high speed while rolicking robin music plays in the background. Closeup on the maple buds round as stoplights.
April 9,
Time has slowed again with the return of cold weather. The bleeding-hearts in my garden are huddling on half-grown stems.
Another gray morning. From behind the house, a field sparrow’s ascending note, like a translation of ruffed grouse drumming into song.