Passing planes transgressed across one another in the carnal night. A steamy conglomerate of evenings made their rounds for seven hundred and thirty days, unabridged, possessing hints of aphrodisiacs…

I first hear it through the branches of the evergreen. Filtered by needles, the sound draws me in as I peer into the invisible melody from high above, searching for its composer. A flash of orange catches my eye. Through the pads of a prickly pear I spot the little vocalist…