silver fish, a scrim
of red rubies
on its flashing sides.
from The Osprey, Mary Oliver
The ospreys in the neighborhood have been very conspicuous the last week or so; I think this year’s young have just fledged.
I watch their cell tower nest while I wait for the light to change or the train to pass. My view is better, closer, while waiting on the train, but it lacks the perspective the other side of the intersection offers. From there I can appreciate how massive the nest is and just how precariously it’s placed.
They drift by my car on their way to the river or over the backyard on their return, the fish face-first in golden talons. Last week, two dark bundles with checkerboard wings outstretched, awaited delivery. This morning the nest was unoccupied and the sky taken.