Photo by Nicole Baster on Unsplash

As the blossoms take center stage, a brown-breasted robin keeps me company atop a protruding granite beauty mark in a green meadow. She glances at me from the side of her beak, a trait of her weakness. Her genealogy protecting her from the likes of us straight gazed predators. A glance over my shoulder gives me the view of the back of a squirrel's fuzzy tail. He gives a nod back, and I think I see his tiny paws clasped around a teeny chalice. I am down the…