delicioustacos

This year was like a movie where the first two acts were good and the ending sucked. You gotta write the ending first.

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From Savage Spear of the Unicorn

I went to pray this morning, looking out the front window. In the front yard the grass has gone to seed. A little wren came. And then finches with red faces, I don’t know what they are. Landing on the foxtail grass making it sway under their little weight. Throwing their heads back to swallow the seeds. They inspect the weeping ficus I have outside in a pot. Investigate the undersides of the leaves. Maybe looking for aphids. A female hummingbird, a rufous or Allen’s hummingbird, perching on the ficus branch, fluffing her neck, stretching out her long exotic tongue. You can hear the mourning doves out back. The mockingbirds. Ravens with their tock-tock sound like that hollow ribbed wooden thing you rubbed with a stick in music class in third grade. Not so bad. Power lines come down from my house, down the hill to the street, and the other day the rare red-whiskered bulbul landed there and looked at me. He was with his four children. I was afraid he’d die alone. But he caught a break.