It seems like the birds and I rarely get to rest long enough before it’s migration season all over again. Are they as surprised as I am when they open their eyes at 5:25 and it’s no longer light outside when it was just yesterday? And it is that, the changing of the light which triggers the migration.
The osprey left the nest and the white-fronted geese are traveling across the in the intersection of Bonneview and 273 en-masse in that beautiful V formation which reminds me nothing about this is accidental. Though it’s still in the 90’s, the air has shifted, the smells are different so are my emotions and priorities.
Gonna get back to basics
Guess I’ll start it up again
When I was looking at the pictures of the Western Bluebird invasion I have, I stumbled upon one of the many photos I have of you. I remembered what fire that was from everything around it and in between. You always fighting flames. I thought of deleting the photo, but decided that wasn’t necessary. I’m not mad, I’m not sad. I’m really kind of nothing about it except an asshole, ‘you need me more than I need you. Have fun with your boring-ass life.’ And I’m not anything about it because you did the right thing, someone had to come to their senses.
Well, listen do you see yourself in me?
We’re such crazy babies, little monkey
God, we’re so fucked up you and me
Even all the stories I used to tell you about my day don’t need to be retold anymore. The ghost of you is a better listener than the real you. And I don’t know about you, but I’m so excited for the changing light, for fire season to subside, for the winds to shift and leaves to fall making it harder to bird because not every movement is a bird anymore. Not every heartbeat an emotion.
My Love is for the Birds - Sketches 