It was not Neptune, but Saturn when her moons were glimpsed in alignment. Ten years ago, flashed instance not revisited, poetry shelved until reached for, dusted then opened. Quiet observation, retrospection without comment, keen, the universe her audience. After a musical rendezvous, the  tattered cashmere scarf blows from his neck spinning pedals home.

The pileated are more interactive when the river swells, their echoed reverberations chasing across the misty morning air.