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Field Notes, 31 Jul

Of 4 blue eggs in the nest,
this morning there's nothing left
but the skeleton of a baby-
bird picked clean by ants.
Everything else about the day is cool
and diminished, grasses
beaten down, dingy-gold. Gray-
brown feathers and coyote scat.
No foxes. One blue heron lands
high in a cottonwood, then flies
with slow lolling wingbeats
over the creek that's drunk
its water dry.