Flocks of birds have been peppering our skies lately, great avian ribbons that pass like swarms of bees over our heads, crossing the highway and scattering across the cornfields that line the main route in and out of town.
One by one the cornfields they glean are given over to construction projects: a subdivision, a new retail plaza, a strip mall just like the dozen other strip malls that languish a few miles up the road, already faded and backfilled with nail parlors and check-cashing outlets.
I thought these cornfields would be spared, given the state of things, but developers seem to be chasing their losses here, marching ever onward even as houses go unsold and office space goes unleased.
We don't build pretty in these parts anymore. The gothic structures and mansions of the old downtown mock us as we sprawl our way to inconsequence.
But the flocks of birds are beautiful, sensual, undulating on the currents of cold air. I can't take my eyes off them.