Oh my little friends, you are so very different. One so crisp and bright, studying the bounty of seed before you. The other blurred with legs perfectly stilled.  Your color changed by your motion and your feathers look like fingers spread. It is almost like you are a ghosted thought of the one so still. An image of his thought, his fear telling him to fly from one standing with a camera. And the gentle whisper of wonder as to what my ghosted thoughts look like. I can only hope little one, they are as still and beautiful as you are. And may they hold the blurred ghostness with the same beauty and courage as you.