Spring Shorts: Ode to Spring and the Return of the Birds

 

“What a strange thing!
to be alive
beneath cherry blossoms.”

― Kobayashi Issa, Poems

VERYCHERRY

Spring arrived early this year but barely made a ripple in the southern atmosphere as it painted our world in pastels, a relief considering the thrashing we took in the late winter months. The cherry trees in the yard bloomed bigger and the petals fell earlier leaving behind small orbs of dark red, eagerly devoured by chipmunks scampering though the branches like tiny acrobats. The testosterone ravaged birds arrived, puffed up and singing loudly, happily, uncontrollably. They staked their territories, built fine nests of pine straw and dried moss, cleverly disguised above the bird feeders lined like smoke stacks along the branches. The turf wars began. The squirrels, ready to feast at the tables set before them, were shamed into retreat by the flurry of beating wings, warriors suspended in mid-air.  The rains came, barely making a ripple and our world rested, preparing for the inevitable arrival of summer, and a backyard truce of sorts.

 

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