A Bit of Cheer on a Sunless Afternoon

The high-pitched scream-like whistle makes me look up, and there among the berries, cedar waxwings scramble along with more melodious robins like mad shoppers at Filene's basement, pulling and swallowing fruit as fast as it can be snatched. They do not fight, however, unlike the nun who grabbed brightly patterned panties out of my hands all those years ago in Boston. These birds seem to understand that sharing is a good idea, especially when the temperature is 27 degrees and dropped. By nightfall, tree will be bare, and they will move on.

I would like to be there when they arrive.