I am not alone, though here in the dead of winter the poor things keep flying into the window, offing themselves, behaviour I associate with springtime when the males see their reflections as rivals. The jays can survive but the junkos cannot. I must put up a decal.

Ah, insomnia! In my ruminating I’ve managed to write a recommendation for Books On The Radio Advent Book Blog, Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom, with its Cerulean Warbler flitting throughout.

Missing a dear comrade in the dead of night I find this bit of King Lear resonating:

“Come, let’s away to prison:
We two alone will sing like birds i’ the cage:
When thou dost ask me blessing, I’ll kneel down,
And ask of thee forgiveness: so we’ll live,
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh
At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues
Talk of court news; and we’ll talk with them too,
Who loses and who wins; who’s in, who’s out;
And take upon’s the mystery of things,
As if we were God’s spies.”

Like birds indeed.