The cerulean sky nearly obscured that most heart stopping beauty of a bird, the indigo bunting.

So blue were his feathers, a feast to the eyes.

Blue against blue

And the music of his call, rhythmic, yes, but shrill.

Like the highest soprano reaching a bit beyond her range.

But, as we know, a bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.

And, like those sopranos, birds of a feather flock together.

So, where there is one, maybe two

Like Shirley and Laverne

Or Bert and Ernie

Whether in Milwaukee or on Sesame Street or on the leafy limbs of a backyard tree

The indigo bunting will dart to the dandelions and goldenrod for the seeds they shed

And hop, forward and back and forward and back in a cheerful quickstep, pelting its shrill song

Before taking flight to the sheltering willow tree

— Christine Piatek

Christine Piatek lives in Ewing and is a retired public sector lawyer with a focus on environmental law. She enjoys many forms of writing, including poetry.

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