touche.

The sun glared.

Seagulls soared.

Swooping wings above lifted winter residue from my skin below.

A Red-Bellied Woodpecker sang out, startling.

Scarlet cap flashed; feathered skull on fire in the 11 o’clock sun.

His perch near the sun, I envied. What warmth he absorbs from the branch of the aspen.

From my lowly lawn chair, I glared.

Blazing cap swiveled.

Bright black eyes met mine.

Considering the mug of coffee, and book in my lap, he glared.

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