Two Blue Jays leap about in a Maple; nonpareil. Two women drink coffee at the sidewalk cafe, twittering and gossiping about some other woman; a pair of nest robbers.  They do not feel the vibrations of the birds above them. One old man flips and folds his Trib, pecking at a chocolate doughnut with sprinkles. Nor does he hear the dual shades of blue flap, flapping above him.  A businessman (or is it a businesswoman?) wired with buds, brisks and clips the sidewalk, never looking up from a text or tweet, certainly doesn’t know that new life is beginning in the branches a mere four feet overhead. I smile conspiratorially at M & M Jay, pulling a few long threads from my unnecessary scarf,  tossing them to the breeze that they alone own.

City steam and stench

Rising blunders twittering —

He who hears the song

Z

For Frank J…