On Birdwatching

I remember when birds were just plain birds, and ducks were the birds that swam in the lake. Binoculars were tools for seeing ballet; heavy, clumsy, hard to control focus. Once taught to listen for the call, cheep, bzzt, and search in the direction for motion I never went back to being blind, lost to flutters, fannies, eye rings, and beaks. Color important as well as tree limbs. Flight patterns, wing shapes, up and down were a nuance to food, romance, and love because you loved the sight and shape, song, and ever elusive arrival friend somewhere, mountain, jungle, graveyard or beach someplace new to join together on hunt to wipe out work time thoughts and hidden pain and love the world we live in for each bird through the short days of our lives on the wing.