Watchtower Report

TRANSMISSION 7: Observations from the front porch

Two hummingbirds chasing one another through the hibiscus, quick as light on glass.

Two possums waddling in from one hunt, out for another.

Three pairs of raccoon eyes frozen in the pink peppercorn.

A handful of coyotes glancing at me, guessing at my preyness, trotting off to dance in the night.

The neighbor’s little boy tumbling across the street, two cats in tow, swimming through the morning like three little ducklings across a creek.

A rising moon. A falling moon. All the lights on Mount Washington making a shimmer of evening.

The silent flight of the horned owl stalking who knows what in the dark.

Two teens kissing on the steps of the city power building.

A squirrel pouting in the sun, puddled under a palm frond.

An ambulance come for an elderly neighbor, three EMTs laughing in the street.

Two praying mantises, green and brown, the size of two thumbnails, holding mass under a leaf.

Laughing parrots riding cypress beneath a morning moon.

A shine of trumpets splashed and brassy blowing their Spanish songs.

A cloud the size of Los Angeles waking up in dawn’s palm, glowing, glowing, glowing, gone.

A quiet, empty blue sky beckoning look, beckoning peace; the peppercorn willows floating up in answer, and with them lifting two hazel eyes.