I am fascinated by ordinary birds.
All afternoon, two downy woodpeckers danced up and down the sweet gum tree.
Sprinklers have dressed the trees in dark skirts.
Jealousy: when the red-bellied woodpecker is in my neighbor’s yard, not mine.
Killdeers alight between two partially constructed mansions. For now, this land is still theirs.
Like the blind raccoon, I am afraid of wind, high grass, birds, and snow.
As I turned toward it, the light seemed to be a solid.
A squirrel and I startle one another.
I’ll watch the birds you ignore.
An American kestrel sits alone on a power line. It begins to rain.
Symmetry: six mourning doves evenly spaced on a neighbor’s cable line.
Dirt is my personal stylist.
Grebes float on the man-made lake as the sky drifts into night.
We all have to love something. Why not the cecropia moth?
Overhead, birds break like pool balls.
Poor vision turns fall leaves into cardinals.
Above, the turkey vulture looks like a scalloped black slip.