walk to the ladder, sucking on my finger. Two red-tailed hawks float high above me. They live here now, in this neighborhood, nested high in a blue spruce. I wonder what they find to eat. Kittens? Pet rabbits? I wonder how clearly their eyes can see the gathering storm and when they will take to their nest, a home stationed in the highest point on this block. How many hawks die from lightning strikes? How would I know? I climb my metal
