Chiree, chiree, chiree a killdeer’s warning pierces the crisp morning air. With a hop and scuttle she moves sideways from our approach. We step onto mottled, ashen-yellow, and grey pavement, the color of her body. She drags an extended wing behind her.
About the Author
I write personal essays, creative non-fiction, flash fiction, and self-development articles from my home in Madison, Wisconsin.