The yellow underbelly of the cedar waxwings flash in the sunlight as they fly from split level house to split level house, looking for trees in this barren landscape.
At my family house, they stop, perch above me. I glory in them, looking up through the bare branches of the large maple, I see the sun of their bellies. And then suddenly, as if in unison, they shit on my head.
No comments:
Post a Comment