You're Out.

Wind's done. We're a lot calmer today, and cool, and sunny. Hum of mowers in the neighborhood. Rattle-hum of mine soon enough. I took it apart a few weeks ago and never did get the cowling to sit back down quite right.

Today's the last day of class. I'm exhausted. I feel heavy. Something's not quite right. Maybe it's finals looming out there. Maybe it's the feeling that I may have mailed portions of this one in. Or the certainty of that.

Our azalea robins fledged yesterday. Tough day to learn how to fly, if you ask me. They could well be in Winston by now. Or Philadelphia. One of them was gone within thirty or forty-five minutes. The other, though, sat down in the cleft of a branch, in good cover, and waited things out. He was making that face baby robins make, like Sam the Eagle from those old Muppet Shows. Big long neck, big tipped-over horseshoe mouth. Baby robins look disapproving. Pissed off. Like they can't quite believe things have turned out this way. Like they were expecting something else altogether.

Our kids were handing the literary magazine around at school this morning. They had other kids turn them down. No thanks, some said. I don't read, more than one said. The goddamned thing's free. And beautiful. I wish we could have some sort of associate dean walk around with us and expel each and every kid on the spot who says she doesn't read. Assholes, assholes, assholes.