everything begs to be noticed, it seems, in this season.
the normally stocky, black, really drab birds that bead the power lines behind my building every morning, just before they are sent scurrying up in the air when cars start streaming out of the parking area, suddenly acquire this iridescence, this shimmering green in their plumage.
and as if that’'s not enough, these birds, these european starlings, the current day swarming descendants of the only 100 individuals released into central park in the 1890’s, decide to change, with the ease of a chameleon, the hue of their long pointy bills.
from the drab grey of their winter get-up, they now sport these traffic stopping yellow beaks. really, they look now like a swarm of flying sharpened mongol pencils.
my indifference is no match for this knockout display of beauty.
even the sun. it bores in through my heavily shaded windows now. no, it'’s not intrusive at all. not yet, anyway. i have summer for that.
but it spuds in to my system like a genteel, noble cologne, worn, perhaps, by a really stunning boy who doesn’'t know he looks it.
and so what am i to do? what does someone wanting in grace to absorb all these beauty to do?
i was supposed to return this really long overdue book to the library this morning. i had to forego doing that, again.
instead, i drew my roman shades into this very unsophisticated sectional raise and just let the sunshine through.
and then like a fat cat, i sidled to where the patch of sunlight splayed on the floor, curled up in it, and blissfully fell back to sleep.