Birds of Summer

I’m seeing more feathers than bones this week. The funny squawking birds are back in the sky. The August ones. The ones I tell Penelope are her birthday birds.

The first year I noticed them was when she turned two and I landed myself in the hospital for abusing my heart. For exhaustion. Training for NYC professional field. Running 75 mile weeks on Funfetti and no sleep.

At sunrise the morning of her birthday party I heard them. I was out running my first of two runs — 7 miles before stringing decorations in the park. Above my headphones they sounded like a bunch of Italian men arguing. I tore off my headphones to realize … just birds. Birds that sounded like dinosaurs. Not Italian at all.

So they’re back. Whatever they are. Erratic fliers. Screaming through blue skies. And the blackberries are getting closer to ripe road snacks. The sunflowers are tall.

This tipping point, crest of summer, days numbered — making it even sweeter. More full.