Moondrils

Day Past Full

A banyon light appears at night, sends shafts of bright into our pocketed lifetimes. A day past full, its fat face like an orbiting bath mirror, with the sun behind us, warming our little cueball’s backside. She blazes and sets mindfires in man and beast. Even the tides speak of her gravity, like a witch’s spell or a sacrament. Keep your friends close, your moons closer. A calm with thorns / to poke holes in your norms / a forge to make memories / a mind to remember.

In moon-shine your best behavior, in goodness sign a happy postcard, and send it out to the stars.

Green Heron

I lament the fact that I have not logged a Green Heron since 2015 and within a week I spot one way out in the sticks, its squat rose-brown neck and dark crown just barely visible to the aided eye, and beyond that, more beach front houses hiding behind clumps of cultured cabbage palms. It’s high tide and the trail is muck and puddles. They are building a nature trail out here off of Boddeker Road and there are large, noise machines busy beyond the mound of hedges to the north. I envision a montage of Google Earth snapshots spanning the years of development, watching townhouses bloom like something in a Petri dish.

Greater Yellowlegs

Greater than what? Better than lesser, as the astute pedant notes the superiority of large over small within the narrow constraints of size. The non-profile view emphasizes the supercilium and breast spotting. The nomenclature is, I gather, occasionally supervised by kindergarteners who shout things like, “yellow legs!” and, “bigger!” before being arraigned for naptime.

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American Robin

A morning dash to the alley with a bag of trash and I heard this bright song (cheerful, like the bridge in a top-40 hit single) and thought: could a mockingbird be behind this? The American Robin is a scarce member of this island community, I have only spotted it one time previously. In a high branch of a neighbor’s tree, it sat belting out tunes until the dread lord Cooper’s Hawk came swooping into the same canopy and it scrammed, posthaste. The hawks are becoming a menace around here and I have to warn myself off of getting sick of seeing them. They are spectacular.

I heard Robin again a few minutes later and it paused in our pecan long enough for a photo. This creature, I would argue, should be our national bird. Before you pugnacious pols complain that she’s not aggressive enough toward the innocent other, consider what she does to earthworms and June bugs.