We watched for the return of the birds. The air around the house was silent and devoid of flutterings, a vacuum of tweets and whistles. What straggling flowers were left went hummingbirdless while twigs and string were just twigs and string with no hope of sheltering featherless offspring. It was strangely quiet, as though they were all sucked into a void somewhere and became dinosaurs again in another dimension. Kind of like our love, they were a wondrous memory for a time until slowly finding their way back home. Continue reading Wingless