Shelter in Place, San Francisco, March 10, 2021

Dramatic thunder clouds are rare in this neck of the woods, so I’ve been enjoying their roiling ebb and flow at this, the end of a winter storm that has brought (at last) much needed overnight rain and a morning spotted with sunshine. And in the thick of it, the crows have been unusually flustered and vocal overhead, careening and barking at an enemy unseen. It’s likely that they’ve spotted the red tailed hawk that sometimes rests in our neighbors’ tall redwood, too close for the crows who claim a nearby tree their turf and nesting ground. But as I watch them dive and sway and circle this morning, it almost seems these fierce and fearless birds have taken on the clouds themselves. I’m stretching the analogy, of course, to say that I am feeling like those crows but less courageous - finally having some protection from the virus that has haunted us for a year now, I find myself suspicious of what trouble lurks nearby. Would that I could screech and fly and chase it all away. Would that we ALL could see and celebrate the sunshine just now breaking through.