The four kits are venturing further and further into the yards, even in the heat they are out after the clover. Then there is that moment they see something, and they all shuffle run back to the deck. Though I have noticed they like to chase birds, I guess because they want whatever falls from the feeders too.
This morning before it got extra, extra hot I had some yardwork to do and as I was finishing, I noticed a cowbird panting under the forsythia. It was quite warm, so I found the old pie pans I used last year, filled half it with rocks and the rest with water setting them around the yard in the shade for insects, birds or any being needing relief. I was just out a few minutes ago to refill them and chat with a dog walker, place my trashcan out. It is 88 now but feels like 96, so a relief.
I have been trying to write a poem about how an eleven-year-old knows how to cover herself in her friend’s blood to survive a massacre. It may be one of those things a poem cannot hold, my heart can’t hold it, it makes my headache. How does she go on? How do those parents. The nation moves on, leaving those burying children and grief on their own. I started reading David Sedaris’s latest book, Happy-Go-Lucky, and the first essay is called Active Shooter and I had to put it down and walk around the house, go out and touch the maple tree, stand in the extraordinary heat. The tree does not need us, the sun doesn’t care if it cooks us into oblivion, these things are just doing their job something we are failing at, looking after each other, looking after the world.
If a goldfinch could bring peace, feed the world, heal everyone, would we notice?
You are cooking and we were at 29 degrees yesterday morning. The roller coaster we are on I believe will last the rest of our current incarnation in this earth walk.
ReplyDeleteI went looking for the book you're reading and I find the cover terrifying, and I have to wonder where the title comes from. I did read Active Shooter, it definitely wasn't what I was expecting.