New World
Jonathan Raban
There was a cardinal in the dogwood tree, just six feet away from where I was sitting in my rocker. The bird was blinded to me by the mosquito-mesh wall of the verandah. I didn’t move a muscle. Against the flurry of white petals, the cardinal’s crimson feathers were like a holy wounding, a splas…
GW-338 Test
Lost in Translation 
