Who cooks for you, Who cooks for you-alllllll.
Every night at 9:20 pm we met at our bedroom window to wait in holy delight for their presence directly over our heads. All of March, all of April, they reassured, gave hope, as more and more of our plans shattered and our human world shut down.
In May as the owls moved to nest building and egg hatching, the concerts moved farther and farther away — softer, softer, as we, too, settled into a routine: life in the time of Covid.
In gratitude, every day I stitched on a memory of the owls, of the comfort their faithful presence brought us in those uncertain days.