By the Chicago River, Ravenswood

10 May 2011

The fire crackles, and children laugh with the evening birds. Ducks and geese careen in the air, touching down across the river’s murky surface tension. Someone unknown is organising cans from behind a makeshift shelter — each clank and crack mistaken for breaking kindling. In the distance trains and traffic hum together, married. A thrush wobbles her whistle in the wind ; it flurries in the air like warm smoke-lights, being born.


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