The bird and the bee

Every morning I wake up and look out the window for a while, wondering how I am and what to do next.  Should I get up again today, just like all the other days?  What's going to happen?  What do I care most about in this moment?  And so far, every day I do get up.  But while I'm lying there looking out the window, I always see one crow flying across my field of view.

I see the bird in the left window, as shown here.

But the bird never makes it to the window on the right.  I lay there and wonder about this every morning.   Does the bird bank left in a precise arc, every single morning, at the same place?  Or spiral up on purpose, to avoid the second window?  Or do a complete about face?  (About face.  That's a weird term.)

This has moved from something I just think about fleetingly in the morning, to something I'm kind of obsessed with.  I draw diagrams trying to figure it out, and in general, spend way too much time on it.

Where does the bird going so predictably every morning?  It's weird, like s/he has a job that starts just after sunrise, even on the weekends.  And s/he flies the same route  every day.  Does the bird think about me too, and wonder if I ever get up?  Probably not, but then again, I doubt the bird knows I'm wondering about his/her absence from the second window.  He/she may assume that disappearing act goes unnoticed.   I've begun to wonder if there's a layer of commuting going on outside that I'm not keyed in to: the bugs and insects and rabbits, all coming and going on predictable schedules and routes that I just haven't noticed yet.  I just notice the one bird.  

I also think a lot about my one new bee, but that's for another post.