Crowfall

Posted on June 9, 2006 in Creatures Neighborhood

I am one of the few people who likes to sit out on the deck every evening. My neighbors — some of whom know that I am bipolar — might symptomize my crouching. “Who knows what is going on in that mind of his?” They don’t know, but when someone asks this kind of question, you can rest assured that the vision of my mind will be fogged over and spooky.

Mist filled in the gap between the brow of the condo development and the shins of the mountain. A racous group of kids chased each other’s tails on skateboard behind me to my left. On the right, one of my neighbors greeted the neighbor’s black labador and ignored me.

I sipped icewater from a gigantic zoo souvenir cup as my cats gyred and gimboled at my feet. All noise ended abruptly: play stopped and the woman went into her condo. Crows jumped my hearing from behind. The black birds cawed. Each ear heard a different bird, one to the left, one to the right as if I they were listening to the taps of a massive pair of raven wings.