I first saw one drawn on a sidewalk
with a waxy ink black crayon
deep rich black feathers
a dab of white on its chest
written beneath the picture
an explanation telling us that we live in its habitat
I make it across the intersection
dash over the hump of the intersection
just a few paces
from history
the history of dreamtime
the history that had sold over a million seats
to over a million warm asses
The neighborhood i walk along now
is shockingly quiet
I am not used to such quiet
Spanish pueblo style houses mixed with craftsman style
plus a dash of what? Tudor?
lush tangled vines ramble over fences, well fed and watered
I saw him
bobbing on the extended branch of a tree
tiny flycatcher, black with a dab of white
Debra Girard, June 24, 2011
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