Despite late summer, the Orioles still come to the feeder. Their song is a delight. I continue to search for the amazing nests without success. My summer's work on this piece is complete. I chose the title from a stanza in Emily Dickenson's poem, Oriole.
One of the ones that Midas touched,
Who failed to touch us all,
Was that confiding prodigal,
The blissful oriole.
