The birds

Every night at dusk I go walking around the brown and sloppy campus to see what I can see. I usually don't see anyone, but when I walk past the sign that says 7PM I always wonder what will happen then.

I hear the birds in the black trees, and I think how it's nice to be outside with them. Most of the time I am thinking about code and what's the next thing to be done to my program, which must seem very strange to the birds, who are more concerned with making noise and gliding. I always look for an owl but I never see one down here — only sparrows, robins, doves, and a few loud and gothic ravens, who look at me like they know something.

My friend Lisa wrote me today and said she was sorry that the owls have been hiding, but that she bets I see plenty of ravens in strange Santa Fe. She said how ravens symbolize the void, and the mystery of that which is not formed, like black holes in space.

I've never liked crows and ravens. They look at you sideways, like they're plotting the moment they can peck out your eyes. Other birds have a lightness, but these birds have an agenda. Sometimes they don't even seem like birds at all, but like someone you know from a nightmare who took on the shape of a bird so he could track you down and be there to tear you up when you finally fall.