An English In Kentucky


















Sunday August 26th 2012    Tim Candler

     Always nice to get there when the car park is still lonely. I saw the Nightjar who haunts the old house that was probably sold along with the land, which is what happens when people reach for fulfillment.  The house still has it's window frames and the trees, older than any of us.  There is low pressure sodium street lighting, and rarely are there night insects to be seen there. I have heard him often, but this time I could see him swinging this way and that, from one lamp to the next, and I'd like to think he was giving me another reason to think of him as Whippoorwill.  A big treat for me, until Pic-A-Stick and Raggedy Ann pulled up.  Their halogens straight in the eye.


      Then when I got home, that Effing Merlin flew into the porch window.  Knocked himself senseless for at least one minute.  I could see his large talons.  His cruel eye, and his beak was open, so I could see his tongue, I guess.  The feathers on his head, and the breadth of his wings, like a fighter plane.  It's a bright yellow skin he has on his feet.  And when I realized he was young, just learning, I felt a tiny, tiny bit sorry for him.  A more agile mind might have caught a photo of him as he hobbled back into the air.  Only afterwards did I think of it.

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