I counted fourteen huge black ravens, scattered under the deep shade of a mesquite tree, their beaks split open, tongues panting, gathered not to gossip but watch each other suffer the silence of July
with his dog circling, the man began shaking a small bottlebrush tree while a roadrunner, its toes locked on an upper branch, held on with the violence as I approached, he looked at me with excited
I love it when they stretch long long and lazy in the late afternoon I can almost hear my backyard sigh every lizard and leaf, hummingbird dragonfly and goldfish can punch out of their day job, re
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