Stealing Home

On my morning walk, I saw three wood peckers fighting over the same interesting spot on a telephone pole. The neighbors were still asleep or they would have seen it too.

A friend saw a brown and yellow bird in his yard and sent around a picture asking what it was. It was a varied thrush, if you must know.

Last night the moon, closer to earth than it had been in 18 years, peered down through the canyons of downtown Portland. From ninth street it looked like it was on second base and might steal home.

Closer to the grave than the birthing room, I stand on second too. With a wide open base path ahead, I think I will race the moon home.

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