A Whip-Poor-Will called last night. It was that time in the late evening when the gray twilight is vanishing. The call came in thru the back patio door. I sat up and waited for the next. Only a yapping dog in the distance.
After some time, it called again. This time thru the screen door at the front. I went outside and stood still for a very long time waiting for the next. There was none. The graying light had turned to black. The yard was dark but for the orange glow from a streetlight across the street.
Up there somewhere in the branches of the Oak, the Whip-Poor-Will was resting its weary bones. Tomorrow would be another day. And it’s a long way to Mexico.