The Birdman of the Ohio Pen

“Why spring release, Doc? I’ll scream. Can’t do another four months.”

“Demonstrate some impulse control, Charlie. Don’t screw it up now.”

Twelve years of stone walls, steel doors, now they take away my year-end release. Nothing to do but stare out the window at scraggly trees, rutted turf, sooty snow drifts. Except for those holly bushes with brilliant red berries.

Now even the berries are disappearing. That plump robin is pigging out. Pregnant? Isn’t she the first sign of spring?

If I just zip it and pull for her every day, maybe I can beat this thing.

You go girl.