roundaboutagain

This morning I went walking down the north side of the great hill, and walking down the treelane, and turned to go walking down the long road where there is nothing but field and bright emptiness. Down, down, to wind and silence and birds. I originally meant to have some things out with God but I got distracted because there were just all sorts of birds. There was a sweet cardinal's song and a gaggle of redwinged blackbirds and their wives that flew over my head into the tree next to me and chattered and squawked like old ladies and when I stood still I heard an insistent bird in the woods across the field. Over and over, clear calling. It was like F natural, F natural, C! but not quite that. I can't get it exactly. I think when birds sing they can somehow hold every single note, or at least multiple notes, in each of their one. I think it was a bobwhite. W the naturalist child would know but I don't want to ask because I know I would probably get that Look. I mean if I told him all that F natural business. It would be the same Look I got when I used to work at the warehouse and a pump alarm would go off and I'd hum and buzz a bit and say hmm C major, i'd guess, which was around the point when I realized I was slightly alone in the world and that I was odd and liked it.