warms himself
in the evening sun
perched on the tallest antenna
spark of all that is to come
puffed, he prepares to sing,
an elegant moment about to explode
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Peterborough Poets 
Ward – it is like you read my mind – I just love this – but morning is the time for me – we are still experiencing awful evenings – and it is still cold. Hugh and I had a bird call that we used – so that’s why this is so special. Just 7 days after his death – I was in a grocery store – first time I heard our birds in the store – I knew he was just saying go home…and it was explosive to me.
Barb, meant to post it earlier but the day … sending you whatever warm weather we have — it will arrive Barb, it ail arrive.