John James Audubon, "Yellow-billed Magpie, Steller’s Jay, Western Scrub-Jay, and Clark’s Nutcracker," 1836–37
It’s as if I’m blindfolded in this life, nothing but the south wind and its fat raindrops to tell me “you’re getting warmer…warmer… colder…warmer,” as I make my way, arms outstretched. A jay, outside our front door. A small dog wedged up against my hip. Can I track what matters the way they do, scent threading a path on the wet cold wind, full promise of food or love over a hill, down a trail I can’t yet see? I put bread out on the porch. Me, that jay—both getting warmer.