D.O.P.-T.

[weofodthignen]

The green parrots have apparently prospered during the long, hot, dry summer; either that or they've come back from San Francisco or wherever most of them went. As I walked back from the bus this chilly morning, half a gross were wheeling and screaming in a disordered and fluid clump, in clumsy gyres and generally westwards, till they came down in a group of tall pine trees. Still screaming, of course. Maybe they were complaining about the cold.