When the weight of the sun sinks back down behind the hills and the incessant beaks have stopped pecking, Mine does too....
I eat when the birds do.
When the juncos and grosbeaks visit the feeders outside my window,
I take to my plate.
When the weight of the sun sinks back down behind the hills and the incessant beaks have stopped pecking,
Mine does too.
That’s when I go to the back of the house,
Where the bathtub is,
And I fill it.
Fill it with water,
Slink my whole-self in,
And submerge beneath the surface.
I lay there blowing bubbles until the water grows cold.
Shivering in the dark,
Stretched out like a board,
Waiting for the chatter that arrives when the sun begins to swell.
That’s when I rise,
When I dry myself off,
I let the water drain and go back to my table by the window,
To eat,
When the birds do.
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