Friday, June 5, 2015

In the season of ripening cherries.

Early summer's song is the shadowed call of the rain crow, a throaty, mysterious and rare kind of bird whose cry is said to tell of coming storms. In the gloaming, cherries are whisked away from trees, winged thieves fluttering the news among their kind. And yet the scent of fresh-baked pie drifts along the night breezes.