Outside my window the sound of birds, deep in the forest, on the deck, from the chicken coop, is the first thing I become conscious of upon waking. My dreams are full of birds as well. They are silhouettes and sentinels at the periphery of my journeys. Not all my encounters are romantic. Today my chores included cleaning the useless cage that once housed Arnold and Lucille. Their feathers clung to the wires, the old food mixed with old poop and birthed humming flies. I'd rather think about their song.
This painting is on a wood panel 10 x 8 inches... I will call it "bird song".