Bird on the Wire

(Vermillion Flycatcher)

Like a bird on the wire, 
Like a drunk in a midnight choir, 
I have tried in my way to be free.

—Leonard Cohen, Bird on the Wire, 1969

Freely flitting along the wire, keeping one eye on Becky and me and the other on the tiny and tasty butterflies rising from the dewy grass, this little guy was unaware of the big changes coming his way. His subtle rusts, browns, and grays will turn to vivid crimson on breast and face set against the deepest of black mask, back, and wings—unexpected and enthralling, like the stirring harmonies of a “midnight choir.”

On this early February, 2020, morning, as Becky’s shutter clicked on this scene, neither of us could have imagined the Covid-hampered year to come or of the months that would follow this writing. We, too, long for the freedoms of old and the once common clamor of friends and family and music and laughter.