There’s the constant beeping of a truck backing up. It had been pretty quiet for quite some time.
Except the crows were in an uproar. I didn’t see or hear the hawk. Usually that’s what gets them started. A hawk will wait high up on a branch of the dead tree. I imagine that it has a perfect view into the gardens where small creatures can be found. The crows sound the alarm. That might be wrong? The Cooper’s Hawks go after small birds on the wing. That’s right. They like to catch them in flight. Regardless, the crows arrive and make a big racket.
Now it’s all gone quiet again. Even the cicadas have stopped. Their crescendo reached.
Finally, I switched off the air and opened a window wide. That’s how I got the gift of the drama out there in the park this morning. The crows made me look. Made me pause from my writing and observe.
Now I can hear the hawk. He’s pretty far off. The crows have moved towards the call. There is a soft cool breeze and rain coming any minute. The grass has greened up again after our few weeks of drought. Everything is looking lush and overgrown.
I walked out to the beach yesterday. I practiced trying not to get riled up about the trash. I’m not a crow. Letting go of my sense of territory over the beach makes for a much more enjoyable experience. The truth is, it was gorgeous. Most of the bins were full which meant that folks ARE using them. I spoke to one of the venders setting up and asked that she spread the word about the garbage. She seemed to get it? I dunno? Everything seems to be unfolding in divine right order. I am incredibly grateful to be alive and sober.
🙏🏻☮️🌻
Spinster Life 