The cerulean sky nearly obscured that most heart stopping beauty of a bird, the indigo bunting.
So blue were his feathers, a feast to the eyes.
Blue against blue
And the music of his call, rhythmic, yes, but shrill.
Like the highest soprano reaching a bit beyond her range.
But, as we know, a bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.
And, like those sopranos, birds of a feather flock together.
So, where there is one, maybe two
Like Shirley and Laverne
Or Bert and Ernie
Whether in Milwaukee or on Sesame Street or on the leafy limbs of a backyard tree
The indigo bunting will dart to the dandelions and goldenrod for the seeds they shed
And hop, forward and back and forward and back in a cheerful quickstep, pelting its shrill song
Before taking flight to the sheltering willow tree
— Christine Piatek
Christine Piatek lives in Ewing and is a retired public sector lawyer with a focus on environmental law. She enjoys many forms of writing, including poetry.
