Oregon is in full bloom. Meaning the fog has descended, rain is pelting the leaves, wool socks paired with Birkenstock are in full force, and insignificant to some the average simple black birds are no longer on the wire. My fascination with migration and migratory patterns of birds is a new interest. Perhaps only from an emotional empathy concerning movement. Only a few days ago a group of some six black birds perched on the wire above the hedges and would chirp, whirl, chatter, caw, and all sorts of other avian acrobatics. Telling either of dreams or travel strategies. I prefer the former. The life expectancy of the average black bird is 20 years, a number expected to be far less. of course it's expected to be less because we as humans usually equate value and life expectancy with size. Perhaps all of this exposition on the life span of birds is pointless, mental drivel...perhaps not.

My thoughts are many....perhaps the contemplation of birds is a noble endeavor...it at least is of nature although not void of abstraction.