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Bluebirds
- Red Hen Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
38 Bluebirds forget allegory, this is a fact: a pair of bluebirds nest each year in the eaves of our house on oak Ridge Road. The male is a shocking electric blue so you have to imagine something gaudy; something heightened, even in nature. Most of what we get around here is dull, soot-soaked, dingy as old bread. But not this fellow. He shows up each spring with his mate. She’s muted, mostly gray, only a thin veil of azure draped on her wings. The two of them scope out the roof like a pair of newlyweds, looking for a home. for some reason the female catches sight of our ficus through the bathroom window. Why not build a nest there, in that warm palace of leaves, and not outside in the dead limbs of an oak? She assaults the window, striking it again and again, flying into her own desperate reflection. i wouldn’t call it the tree of Paradise, but it looks pretty good to her. i wouldn’t say she was practical, or wise. i’m only telling you this to let you know what happens, sometimes, in a world we often look down on. And they’re not fools.They know what they want, gathering what they can to fly into the face of their longing. ...