song_sparrow ovenbird He tries to dance his way into a mate’s heart. I see him on the fence post, puffed up with his own courage, lifting his right wing and fluttering it like a geisha’s fan, then doing the same with the left. Back and forth he tips and trips like a tiny drunk with more confidence than he’s earned. The female is unimpressed. Or she’s playing hard to get. I don’t know what goes on inside a bird brain, but her thoughts prompt her to run. Away, away, along the fence as fast as her delicate feet can carry her. She could fly but she runs instead and he pursues her, still flicking his feathers and dancing out the dregs of his hope. They soon disappear over the fence and I don’t get to see the conclusion of their romantic saga. I’m left with the drifting down of my delight, my mouth smoothing into a smile, my breath taking wing in my throat. This world is full of bodies yearning for warmth, desperate hearts struck dumb by beauty, failing hope and hopeful failures, all of us wanting, beyond all reason, to have our hunger sated. I hope he convinced someone he was worthy while I simultaneously hope she got away this time, keeping her soft body for herself a little longer. I hope the sparrows will build a nest in the tree right by my window so I can keep an eye on the most common of wonders as it goes about the quiet spectacle of living. 260212 what's it to you? who go blather from