“Heard some cranes goin’ south today.”
“Oh?” she filled his plate.
“Must be into March now.”
Clearing the dishes, she said, “Do you think it’s the 12th yet?”
“Don’t know. The preacher hasn’t been around.”
“I think tomorrow is the 12th.” she stated.
“Will you go with me tomorrow to sit with him?” she asked the window.
She was answered by the door. Closed and hard.
Their little house shook from the shake-shouldered roof to the toe-nailed floor boards. She held the counter until the shaking stopped and their empty cradle stood still too.
—
P.S. I wrote this hard-to-read story for you because you are a brilliant reader-of-stories and you deserve it.
Interesting facts: Sandhill cranes frequently give a loud, trumpeting call that suggests a rolled “r” in the throat, and they can be heard from a long distance, especially in migratory flight. Mated for life, pairs of cranes engage in “unison calling.” The cranes stand close together, calling in a synchronized and complex duet. [Wikipedia]