You can go down for a jouk, I want to say, a gander at the greylags on the green that’s not so much a field as a grassy space where the flats once stood.
In the evenings, we watched Jeopardy. Wore surgical masks once she got sick. Before that my mother sent me to the store for cigarettes all the time. Pack of Salem Lights.
Of birdsongs, I know only three for certain: cardinal, blue jay, raven, though perhaps the last two don’t count—not as song. More call than song. More cry, by which I mean