Blue Jay

A blue jay chirped angrily at me this morning apparently upset that I moved the corn cobs it feasted on yesterday. I looked up and found its white breast in the tree overhead, its blue head jauntily tilted, its piercing eyes looking down on me. I responded, “If you wanted breakfast, you should have gotten up earlier, before I started raking these leaves, after all it’s almost noon.”

Today is Sunday, a stunning autumn day with warm sunshine and a bright blue sky—the kind of day that beckons, Come outside and play. I locate the rake and clear leaves from the curb that lines our street, pulling my quarry up onto the front lawn, adding it to the shallow piles the wind has gathered overnight. 

As I begin to bag the leaves for transport to the community compost site, the blue jay takes flight, perhaps in search of another autumn display of gourds and field corn, a breakfast buffet.

R

Photo by Jeremy Hynes on Unsplash