Friday, July 4, 2025, 57.5* 0435
Fluttering red ribbons on a lace-covered book puzzle, stop me on my way down the hall towards my desk, coffee in hand, grahams in my pocket (wrapped), the three following at a distance. It’s just the fan in its side-to-side revolution rousing them.
A Ruffled Grouse spoke for the first time to a quartet: Ovenbird, American Crow, Barred Owl, Red-eyed Vireo. As I returned plastic owls to the deck, opened the umbrella, a Gray Catbird landed mewing as if to warn: “It’s too early for humans.” It flew into the woods still mewing when Zsolt moved to investigate; the other two in the house yawning, waiting for biscuits, waiting to return to sleep.
When the sun reaches the upper panes, sits on my monitor like the orange ball Zayne plays with, I will close the blinds. Now the mosquitoes will awaken, the leaves will shine, spider strings will be delineated.
Someone will spoon coffee into a filter, fill a cup,
move slowly into morning.
Photo: LJ Austin
