to the romanian woman who feeds me and asks me where I live:

Near the water, but not on it, with a lawn of moss and black eyed juncos till May. June, and hornets are in the rockery. Too late in July I tried to grow vegetables: my carrots did not sprout, but I had many radishes. In August the grass grew dry and poked the pads of my feet. We had grosbeaks, but they were gone by September when the air abruptly turned chill again. In October I expected the harlequin ducks and western grebes back to the bay. The November winds brought a birch down in our yard. All night the trees swayed and danced and I was very afraid. Cool stiff winds all December, but little snow. I sleep January through, fight a cough. In February I pull back the mulched leaves in the garden to see primroses. March and I am older, the yard is soggy and grey, many black eyed juncos. My heart feels sore. April, patches of sun on the deck and a pileated woodpecker on the old cedar stag. The juncos are replaced by many yellow birds, some purple finches, a few grosbeaks, the hornets in the rockery.