Fullmoon of Peepers

Friday the 13th. You're lingering between the tikis, waiting for the full moon to pull itself up out of the brink, anticipating the show. In the meantime, you review.

Who needs "House of Cards"? "Breaking Bad"? "Mad Men"? Just root around in the cabin dresser for seeds and stems, amble down to the big sea water, light the lamps, conjure the moon.

This one, Strawberry. Don't forget the wine.

* * *

When you hear the first peep!, answer. Like you do with the ravens.

Remember that first raven, that time in the spruce by the outhouse? There you are, walking the path with your coffee in the sun, suddenly someone addresses you. Calls you out. From above, like a director. You look up — such astonishing blackness! — and forget yourself. Your tongue, your feet, your banality of coffee.

You talk for half an hour or so. Half a lifetime ago.

* * *

While waiting for the next peep!, you recite bird group names in your head, like running lines: siege of herons, wrench of warblers, cauldron of raptors, murder of crows, unkindness of ravens...

You follow this with a mental list of names for the namers: war of humans, murk of humans, unsteadiness of humans, suspect of humans, pestilence of humans...

When you hear the second peep!, answer again. Repeat. For as long as it takes.

Suddenly you're Don Draper, giving the presentation. Keep it short, focused. This isn't Shakespeare, it's advertising.

The pitch: you will never be unkind. You will never stage a siege, wrench anyone's body part off, throw anyone into a cauldron, murder anyone.

You're a good risk. There for the duration.

* * *

When the peeps! escalate — two, three in succession, brighter, louder — answer in kind. In kindness. You're finding it now, a rhythm, a voice.

When the conversation grows legs, keep it up, for as long as you can. For the rest of the night, the rest of your life.

In the meantime, keep an eye out for the moonpath. Coming soon to a body of water near you.

* * * 

It's Friday the 13th. You're lingering between the tikis, watching the full moon pull itself up out of the brink, talking to a tree frog.

Suddenly it occurs to you, as surely it must. This is the risk. This is the duration. Emphasis on the linking verb.

This is the show.