Sunday, February 26, 2017

Moving day freezing rain

On a balcony above the town, I hear such a deep, raspy rattle that I look to find black bird babel. A resounding raven clamor imbues us with the gratitude of gronk. Can there be any friendlier sound or any better omen? The rainy limb it leaves isn’t lifeless, though it seems. Walking on snow below, moving furniture in Quebec, winter, all but one bird still sleeps.