The bluebirds finally nest within a house we built. That pestering squirrel, perhaps the heavy rain through a neglected roof forces them away.
Peach trees promising breaking harvests with an overdose of bright pink blossoms. Frosts predicted for the nights and every morning I wake up to check, my breath held for the moment and released in a flow of unneeded worry.
The hummingbirds are back. No counterweight on my mind here; they are dependable.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology