August 25, 2017

Hear:  The symphony of midnight

Taste: The satiating sweet of a freshly liberated strawberry

Touch: The pulse of surrender

Smell:  The evening on the verge of autumn

See: The light of hope

 

the deep paralyzing hurt that swallows you whole, violates the being, questions every word, every memory, and searches for the precise moment you became the secret conversation.

 

Bounce and Beckon

 There was a baby bird in my driveway the other day.  It fell from the tree in front of my duplex.  When sitting at my computer, I could hear the little bird crying to its parent bird for food.  I watched out the window as the parent bird flew hither and yonder fetching particles of food to cram into the wide screaming mouth of its offspring.   From patch of grass to edge of nest, again and again that parent bird flew.  And that parent bird kept cramming that food into that never satiated wide screaming mouth.  That parent bird tirelessly, selflessly, feeds that wide screaming mouth.

 And then the baby fell.  That fallen baby, probably more an adolescent in bird age, with its disappearing down and half-feathered wings, fell from the tree and wandered to the driveway.  The parent bird, now bouncing from ground to wire, beckons the baby with rapid-fire twitter.  Mia, my cat, spies the baby bird.  Parent bird hovers below the wire screeching with puffed feathers. 

 “Mia, git…shoo... go.”   She does.

 Parent bird continues the bounce and beckon, inching closer to the woods.  Baby bird flexes his wings like a “big boy.”  He catches no air.  He has yet to take flight.  Bounce and beckon, bounce and beckon, bounce and beckon.  Baby bird reaches the back stoop and, wing over beak, climbs the first two steps.  Bounce and beckon, bounce and beckon, bounce and beckon.  Baby bird thoughtlessly follows the bounce and beckon of the parent.  Baby bird topples in the grass and over the rocks in his path and tumbles with that wide chirping mouth.  Baby bird wanders to a puddle and splashes his reflection with his “not so big boy” wings.  That parent bird bounces and beckons, tirelessly, selflessly leads that wide chirping mouth.