Today's the day

The first White-throated Sparrow of the season has arrived. Right on schedule. It looks tired and a bit annoyed. You can tell by the way it pecks at the mess in the front yard. Between the willow and the birch actually. That's where my eyes first go. I can't help it. I imagine I'd see more birds if I looked around, but that's not what I do. Not at first. There's a certain order to a morning, a certain way to go about things if you want the day to go right. So right now I'm at the point where the coffeepot is sputtering behind me. The cat purrs to my right. Everything is a bit fuzzy, soft. Even the bill of that sparrow. But I know it's sharp. You can tell by the way it strikes the earth. The strike happens after the sparrow scratches, both feet kicking back at once. I could stand here all morning and watch the muck fly. Muck is what it is. Not quite dirt.