There’s a little bluebird sitting on my fire escape. For a while, any movement I made turned him into a goner. But now I can approach the window and he’s prepared for my presence. He cocks his head ever so slightly to the side, but keeps his eyes affixed on me. I wonder what he’s waiting for to fly south. There’s a flock of others on the roof across the street, flying circles overhead as they practice their formation toward warmer weather. But this blue guy appears to have no worry in the world. He’s ready for the fast ascending darkness; for the crisp air that puts so many of us into hibernation. Perhaps he will be here forever. Probably not. But until then, I’ll watch his unmoving gaze and a concentration I never thought possible.