River of crows

The touch of our separate excitements is another of the gifts of our life together.
—Mary Oliver.

I’ve been feeling off all day. Flu-ish but not down with the flu. Head and palms hot, but not feverish. Achy and sore, but not flat on my back. I took a Covid test: negative. I cancelled my time with Margie, both to prevent communicating a germ, if I have one; and because I am just too tired. 

Nothing to see here except the excitement of a river of crows streaming downtown to roost for the night next to the river. Sleek buildings jostle one another for importance, proclaim their names to a thick and impervious sky. Crows swerve and dip among them.

My chest swells with the energy of these crows. I stand at the window, feeling the rush and whip of wings, call and response, life, life, life. This day's excitement.

For those who celebrate Burns Night: our fellow Blipper Barrioboy and his Address to a Haggis.