yellow

Black-Hooded Oriole, Thekkady

Yellow is the new black, Frost is an old man

Seeing Orioles makes my insides flutter. They look like they are on a mission from another planet. Perhaps, they are here to tell us that there is such a thing as too much yellow. Or that our ancestors weren’t primates; they were plants. And how silly it is that we move around so much instead of sitting still and reforesting our homes.

I bet it was something our ancestors had never bothered to listen to. It is probably why the Orioles gave up and turned into earthlings. Eat. Poop. Procreate. Sleep. Repeat. No more spilling of universal secrets through subliminal birdsongs.

I have seen three different sub-species. The Golden Oriole, the Black-Hooded Oriole, and the Black-Naped Oriole. They haven’t yet asked me to take them to our leader. Perhaps, they know how poorly governed we all are.

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Golden Oriole (Female)

No such thing as too much yellow

A golden oriole appears,
sepia-bathed and freckled,
as does her song in silos;
she dips her beak
in crumbling lemon clouds,
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