To the birds
By Anwen Crawford — 30 October, 2020
15.10.2020 The falcons are buffering again. At 13:01:51. A clump of peregrine chicks, downy as only chicks can be, and white as new bedsheets, are sleeping in their nest box. Fatigue is still upon me. I feel lighter than before; I feel blurry. The book that I’d been working on for years was, last week,…