So many birds zipping back and forth I’m gonna need to find nature’s air traffic controller. Maybe a Hawk. They fly over and land on the barked logs surrounding the blackened red brick fireplace, and just watch, cruel sharp beak unholstered.
When I tend to the growing mass of wildflowers everywhere, I throw the unwanted weeds into a box and they dry into kindling. I have bumble bees and a committee of neurotic grey squirrels trying to steal the birds’ food.

But it falls on the deck and the baby rabbits who live under the deck, get it. So do the powderbrown doves who weigh too much to use the feeders, and the shy chipmunks. I watch the sun rise, arc, then fall, while I cook and type.

Sometimes it is as quiet as the wind passing through grass.
Night comes like black chocolate spreading over blue water.

There are ancient wooden swings sitting still in this paradise of a yard. I leave them in peace. The whole herd of us here are missing a pretty and thoughtful someone to sit on the swing with me, flow back and forth, and watch yellow flames in the fireplace consume dried weeds and branches.

I remember softly kissing under a starry cloudless sky. Even the shy chipmunks must be missing watching that. I’ll keep looking. Maybe the Hawk will keep an eye out for me if he sees a good one. I need a good one. She will know when she meets me. Women know things. I will wait.

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