the grasshoppers are ruffling in the grass. it sounds like rain. i think it is raining. every time they land or spring in the dry grass, it sounds like a wet splash. the blackbirds with their iridescent blue throats come out of the sky. they get the grasshoppers. it seems right. they are happy when they swallow a grasshopper. they hop and make a throaty trill that sounds like happiness. what else could it be? the grasshoppers are not beautiful, though i saw one out on the road last week that was huge and green, a primitive, plated green with brown markings like diamonds and hieroglyphs — an egyptian jewel grasshopper. its back end was squashed, and it was mailed in armor, primeval, fascinating. stuck there. it seems to me they deserve to be eaten. the chain of being is also the chain of happiness.