The sun has set.
There’s dusky summer sky, almost dark.
The only light is coming from the glow of our cable lights perched from the pergola over our deck.
The music on the stereo has stopped – we’ve heard all of the CDs Jim had loaded up in the player.
We sit quietly, holding hands, listening to the quiet.
Then, we heard a screech. What was that?!
Ooh. We heard it again. Over to the right, where the tall pines edge the yard.
We can feel it’s presence, just 10 feet away.
Our hands squeeze each other in unison as we see the outline of a bird fly from one tree to the next. Another screech.
We’re mesmerized. And so still. Seems the world has stopped. Not a sound, not even cars on the street.
We see it land on the fence. It screeches some again.
Is it calling it’s mother? It has that sound of wanting, needing.
We imagine its been left to learn to fend for itself. Time to grow up. But we don’t know.
Our neighbor had just told us that they had starting hearing owls at night (here, it’s been cool enough at night to open the window). Their daughter saw one fly across their driveway – wingspan of 2-3 feet – late one night.
Just now, as I type, the sun is rising. It’s peaceful and quiet.
Except, for the unusual sound ‘hoo’, muffled through the closed window.
Smiling. I think we have a new friend in the neighborhood.