by Sherry Roberts

One late afternoon I was watering my secluded back yard. In one thick and gnarled tree I heard a faint and compelling “chirp,” a sound from a bird who seemed to be “testing” the grounds. It was more of a question than a chirp.

Since it was an Indian Summer day, I thought the bird might enjoy a tiny shower, so I set the nozzle to “fine” and raised it high into the dense tree foliage.

The water issued forth.

I knew it would be irresistible, and held it high in anticipation of her indulgence. Very shortly I saw a tan and umber head with a face as sweet as the voice from which it emanated. She bent her head this way—that. And soon she emerged onto a bare limb in full view. Oh! It was a Western Flycatcher with a tiny tuft of feathers upon her crown!

The water issued forth.

Mesmerized by the diamonds and rainbows gushing from the hose, she jumped down a limb like a shy young girl on a bathing beach. She bent her head this way—that. And although the yard was aroam with seven cats, she dove, and splashing, dipped and soared into the trail of diamonds and rainbows.

The water issued forth.

Again she partook of the fine, cool mist and twirled and twittered in the air adrift with misty water droplets. I was mesmerized.

And the water issued forth.

By and by she must have had her fill and so retired to a private branch to preen in modesty.

For a few more moments, the water issued forth.

As time passed and she did not return, I moved to lower the hose. Suddenly I realized my bedroom window was open, into which, over these long moments…the water issued forth.