jack

There are two blackbirds on the fence, tug-of-war-ing over a scrap of something. It looks like they want to fight, but they might be flirting. Oops, they dropped it. It was very sweet, the male hopped down onto the bar and then the trellis, clinging sideways and looking dolefully at the bush where it disappeared. Then he climbed back up, they looked at each other, cocked their tails, and hopped off the other side. Under a rain of blossom.