Calling back to the Curlew

Reconnecting the words

It’s been a quiet summer for me. I heard my first curlew of the year in early May, just a single note as it flew over the woods and up to the ridge. I didn’t see or hear any after that in the uplands near my home. It hasn’t stopped me thinking about them. It’s something I do all the time, remembering that sound they make, that wonderful call: a chain, a…