April 7, 2013

The male osprey returns first and finds the task before him tedious, frustrating. The twigs and sticks of the nest akimbo, the springy lining of grass and twigs stripped away by brazen gusts of winter storms. Such a mess. He folds a wing over his brow, closes his eyes. In darkness he sees her, the slant of her eyes, the curve of her beak. He begins the eyrie restoration and within days she alights, wings outstretched, smooth white breast pulsating. “She lives!” he cries, feeling a popping of firecrackers, passion filling his raptor-ous heart.

Painting by Abby Paffrath

Painting by Abby Paffrath

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