yellow

It’s early morning and I spy a spiderweb stretched across the clothes line. It looks like spun silk glistening in the flickering rays. Dancing shadows from leaves and light entertain me. We’re all just waking up and stretching ourselves towards the day.

My red songbird perches on the wisteria vine. He’s a male Cardinal with a sleek crest on his head. His call is loud and unmistakable: long swooping whistles, then sharp chirps like sixteenth notes. He’s a soloist this morning. Sometimes a lady friend will accompany him and they dodge in and out of the blackberry bushes. It looks like a frenzied game of tag. I wonder if he’s as familiar with me and my tendencies, as I am his?

The Goldfinch swings from sunflower to sunflower like a trapeze artist. I’ve seen a trio of them, springing about like they were being juggled. And in all my watching, I’ve discovered a theme within the sunflowers and its lovers: they attract things of the same color. Bumblebees, yellow finches, and even Tiger Swallowtail butterflies. All perch at the round table and get their fix of seeds and sweets. Perhaps the motto is true, that we attract what we are? That’s entirely too deep a thought for breaking open the day, but I find myself most reflective here. Here in the beginnings, before it drags me off to wild endings.