The birds tweet, the crows caw, a jet roars, and the cars cut the spaces in between like the sound of the tides combing the shore. There is a siren wailing, a grass mower going, but the birds and crows continue on undisturbed. It could be like one long piece of music punctuated by the bees buzzing or the tree frogs croaking, by a delivery driver squealing his brakes. And after so long, a whole season of seasons spent indoors, it sounds like the whole world is reawakening. At least in this small corner it is. And isn’t that the world for us, our small corners? Crow, house fly, honey bee: circling the same patch of grass, gathering, bedding down. We have that much in common, at least. We share the same air.