Painted Bird

Gray sky at a gray dawn. Hint of sun through screen door to the east, narrow strip of yard, dark brown fence, white vine blossoms trailing over from the other side. A fig tree, too, but later in the year, branches heavy... Full of starlings, their squawk and chatter--appearing suddenly, ready for lunch. Thinking of Su Tung-Po, alone on the river at night, everything still, he considers the spider, the lonely mud worm... Man's fate, Leonard's as well, also alone...