The day I found the oyster, I met him.
The sun was hanging low and golden, in no hurry to leave, when I walked back to town.
After the meal, I walked up to the cathedral for the first time. Behind the cathedral, in the soft darkness, the man, out with his dog,
whispering
to the fledgling owl fallen from the nest, his mother hooting on the wire overhead,
lifting it onto the wall around the church grounds,
safe.
There had been magic in everything that day. I watched the small creature on the wall for a long time, before
losing myself again in the steep winding streets,
not knowing where I was headed
nor what I would find
when I got there,
