I put on warm clothes and hopped on my bike for Bald Hill. There was nothing left of the fog but what harm was there in enjoying the January sun even if alarmingly unseasonable? Along the bike path a Red Tail swooped off a power line into the grass, a Downy Woodpecker hopped around the backside of a tree by the trail.
As I parked my bike three Ravens soared in an arc over the oaks and disappeared into the woods scolding each other.
The mud was thick on the side trail. The sparrows and Towhees, surprised by steps, darted from each side of the trail into the brush. Suddenly I remembered a dream with Varied Thrushes. He and I lay together, as if it was settled, and I heard their haunting calls all around us as the room shrank, just enough for two bodies and the rest was wilderness.