A Wish Fulfilled

When I was little, I wished on every first star: I remember none of the wishes, consequential or otherwise.

But I have been wishing that my bluebirds would move in to their box, noting the arrival of Mr Bluebird on the deck or the satellite dish, hunting, or wing waving.

This morning Mrs Bluebird poked her head out of the box hole and stared, first, right at me in the kitchen, and then all round, checking out the accommodations she has apparently accepted.

Later, when I saw the Shooting Stars on Texas Avenue, it was as if my wish had come true.

May yours be realized, too!