Angel feathers

 

Just caught a free show from the circle of life; it all started with a journey to solace, pilgrimage to the place where trees lean high and squirrels massage the roots. The wind led me with maternal wing to view the pines and watch the leaves change.

Angels blessed me as a feather gained momentum towards my eyes and sailed on into the blue. Smiling, I began to sift my sights through the branches to find more feathers floating through the pine needles.

Soon, a coat of feathers drifted off into airy sea like a school of fish – surely too many in one cluster to be a coincidental engagement.

In a nearby tree, perched, was a beautiful young bird of prey! White-breasted hawk taking a breath, enjoying the view, securely honing in on intention. 

How majestic to see such wild truth in front of my mundane stroll. 

Brother Crows soar higher calling out to the hawk and begin to squawk truths.

All I can do is hold on to the moment – my human eyes shielded by glass – desperate to hold on to beautiful flying creatures, moving higher into the depths of wind. My mind memorizes each color, each stance, in case my eyes give way.

The hawk adjusts and I am able to see what it was perched on…not branch completely, not the gentle leaves…but the body of another winged friend. As the hawk masters holding branch and carcass, the head soon drops into the ivy… a loud thump. 

My human animal has been dormant – squealing at this delicacy.

Was that really a dead bird it’s holding? Is that lunch or comrade? Does it matter?

Hawk adjusts. This time, I see the suture… red meat where the neck belonged… and the hawk, ever so patient, holds fast. 

It is not until a good gust encourages her to move and her wings spread into brown and white tiger claws, holding fast, to the next pine.

The feathers cease from raining.

The wind closes my eyes.

Don’t ever forget this show.

Jessica M. Wilson – Friday, 1/30/15 2:34pm