Warbler Season

A love story

Just behind the waterfall I spy him glittering like a rare yellow diamond, splashing in the small stream bathing away the dust of a thousand miles.

He is called, Common Yellowthroat, though common he is not. A black bandit mask he wears, though steal he does not.

I dare not move — warblers are hard to spot migrating through New England in May, their ethereal songs echoing among the leafing oaks and maples.

He delights in the cool water and I can’t believe my luck, for tonight he may be gone, navigating northward by the stars to find what fate has in store.

He is called Common Yellowthroat, though common he is not - a black bandit mask he wears, though steal he does not —

Well, except for today, when, just like you so many years ago, he stole my heart.

Thank you for reading!