This poem here, it's called "Redbird Love."
And where we live, there's a lot of birds.
And so when it's Spring, just like human beings,
the world goes kind of nuts with all these love rituals.
[LAUGHTER]
So we were watching the turkeys.
There's some turkeys that live there.
And one day, we were trying to get-- go down the hill.
We live up on a hill.
And we couldn't.
We had to-- we were stopped by these two male turkeys facing
off over this girl.
[LAUGHTER]
They were fighting in the middle of the road.
And she was over, very demurely standing there, egging them on,
[LAUGH] so to speak.
[LAUGH] Anyway, we watched this one redbird.
We watched her come up from a little chick.
She was so beautiful.
She really had something special.
And we watched her grow up and then come
into her young birdhood [LAUGH] and watched this whole romance
take place.
And when I got to the end of the poem,
I realized it was a love song for my--
for Owen, who-- he's my heart.
"Redbird Love."
"We watched her grow up.
She was the urgent chirper, fledgling flier.
And when Spring rolled out its green,
she'd grown into the most noticeable bird-girl,
long-legged and just the right amount of blush
tipping her wings, crest, and tail.
And she knew it in the bird parade.
We watched her strut.
She owned her stuff.
The males perked their armor, greased their wings,
and flew sky-loop missions to show off for her.
In the end, there was only one.
There's that one you circle back to for home.
This morning, the young couple scavenge seeds on the patio.
She is thickening with eggs.
Their minds are busy with sticks the perfect size,
tufts of fluff like dandelion, and other pieces of soft.
He steps aside for her so she can eat.
Then we watch him fill his beak, walk tenderly to her,
and kiss her with seed.
The sacred world lifts up its head
to notice we are double, triple blessed."