A mix of Sitella, Walt Whitman and a little Day Book reflection.
Varied Sitella are not necessarily an easy bird to work with. They have quite definite ideas (as do all birds), about their job, and go at it with a will. They have the rather interesting habit of working from the top of a tree downwards before flying on to high up the next most likely tree.
I am, truth be told, not looking for Sitella of any kind, but rather, being very quiet, hunting Eastern Yellow Robin.
Out of nowhere a small band of Sitella take the the branches on front of me. Then after spending most the a few moments upside down under the branch, this one paused, and attended to wardrobe matters.
Whitman’s poem leapt out.
She comes! I hear the rustling of her gown; I scent the odor of her breath’s delicious fragrance; I mark her step divine—her curious eyes a-turning, rolling, Upon this very scene…
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