Thursday, April 30, 2026, 40.4* F, 91% RH, 0623
A few gleepers sang at 0400, perhaps there had been more voices before lights turned on as the three roamed fenced-in-land. Moon, stars, satellites invisible as the clouds that hid them. Robins speak into gray morning. Trees sway. Ruger leaves his place in the hall to lie by my chair. Giants sleep in their beds. Yesterday, tiny birds visited oak tree flowers. Were hummingbirds puzzled last year to discover silk flowers had no nectar? Perhaps the make-believe cedar wreath is best left on the gate.
The shape of a thing can fool the eye.
Photo: LJ Austin
