tripping over the tail of winter
It’s that time of year when the birds are hungry. We have an endless parade of titmice and chickadees, nuthatch and downy woodpecker, cardinal and blue jay, sparrow and finch. All lorded over by five large crows.
But I find myself waiting for robins. Red-winged blackbirds. Swallows. Bluebirds.
Birds of Spring.
I am craving windows open and serenade of mockingbird. Chitter chatter in the bushes just outside my window. The screech of the green heron as he heads for the swamp.
I am missing morning tea in the garden.
In other words, I have come down with cabin fever. Wiggly spirit. Restless legs. My hermit heart is at odds with my gypsy spirit.
I blame it on that run yesterday, my first since sometime in November.
I want to be outside under that big sky that holds me in, just barely.
I want to fly.
Wishing you a weekend filled with wings.
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