Being and Becoming

I think it could be a House Wren. Of course, it might be any of a million birds.

The air is still and heavy and warm, but alive with bird calls, sweet trills and caws from the woods. Earlier there were loud waves of cicadas singing. The sky to the west roils with angry clouds. It is fall coming on inch by constant inch.

The little bird came back last night. I looked for him and found him on the front porch inside eve, rather than the back. The little mite stays there despite the bright porch li...