Migration
Tell us, southern- seeking birds, why wait for frozen rain to seize the weather- maps—keep all of North America shut in, slipped or slipping still, against these stultifying walls? Better to head north ourselves, find there those empty quarters of creation still left to us. To ensure survival we’ll have to understudy in the frosted fields, apprentice to the semi- silent woods. It’ll be just like childhood’s first blast of sneaky, freezing wind, or that first time you enjoyed being alone, learning what it takes to thrive: a will like a winter leaf—evergreen, or not at all—