Transcription: 12 July, 49th year. And then one afternoon the robin lands in the mimosa and turns first one bright eye, then the other. The worm droops from her beak. Turn your own head, your forward predatory eyes away. You must mean her no harm. Beyond her in the plum nestlings fidget and simmer. She will trust you then and hop down the branch and fly to them. Some sounds you know you're not hearing half of. And then nothing is fixed and bills lie unpaid in the pile, but a postcard from November slides out, more places we didn't go than places we did go, it's a very large country. And tears spring so glad ...