A couple things; maybe a few.

I have an essay up. I was as kind as I could be.

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You know, if you discount art as self-expression and think the discussion of the same is a heap, then, yes, I suppose I would seem to be phony.

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The snow is melting with the help of temps and a little rain. So far, so good as the creek and pond are holding their banks. But we had some snow, yessireebob. Not as much as others and we've already been down this road, so I'll skip ahead to the wife and I walking early in the morning three days ago.

We were out to hear the widow-makers drop in the woods across the street, and that they were. I saw a little bird under our smaller pines and cedars that I knew to be a Golden- 
crowned Kinglet, a bird that has held my interest for a good while (see below). It was in trouble. Yet, given that I'm pretty full inside regarding a dying animal inside, I had to shrug this one off and leave it to Nature. I left the wife listening while I went to make make my morning cup.

Noise at the back door that I know well by now: emotional distress. Yes, she held the bird, cupped in her gloved hands. We watched it die. I noted the "gold" was a mix of yellow and orange.

I waited a bit and then went to town. I returned with bird seed, suet and feeders.

So far, very few birds. But the snow is melting.

Four inches seems much smaller on the wing

my concentration broken by branches and numbers and markings

then find a name almost giving up after ten years this winter when

I hear again their sound that does not translate to paper a combination

of my insufficiency and no trees

or anything else in the air but

alongside the barn and fencerow close enough I’d not bother you

with the detail of walking the blind dog except to pull the leash tight

fix on a flit a loop to land at my feet yellow striped head wing bars

as if it had not noticed but for a still second we both were God

sought found lost except for found to call a reminder not right

away for other duties but time to time back to the house

and for more than ID maybe the last on a list except

those that seldom leave the woods

or the task at hand unaddressed truth be told via simple digression

a scope easier generalized longstanding issue recounted

perceived wrongs the way seasons collide doubling back

on the friction turned on its side nonetheless suction enough

to stay outside for the dog’s too damn happy nose and ears

were I certain of its blindness to let it wander off leash

past the porch the house to the road and keep walking

or tell it to stay and hope it doesn’t follow best conditional

in either case the bird supposes a better course for both

Lord knows

I’ve tried about half the time otherwise none harder than what

comes my way even for follow through sufficient criteria

for a sense of self than knowing a name to put on a list

making notation easier than I let on and on so says

the crunch of bricks in the chimney

windows doors dishes laundry books

and walls a house accordingly responsible to what

one says aloud so I keep the bird’s name to myself

and unleash the dog