Small Stone #16

"The red-winged blackbirds are back," she said, making small talk in the post office.
The red-winged blackbird, I sigh. I can hear their throaty talk, see them perched on a willow.
They are our mountain sign of spring, of running water, of life under the sun with a song.
"I hope they know what they are doing," she said.
So do I.