Feathers in the Wind

Eye drawn to gray weathered splintering wood on the railroad trestle,
as I approach I see wing feathers fluttering in the wind –
a red tailed hawk struck by a train.
I am compelled to apologize for our blunt mechanized intrusion on the freedom of the air. And to utter gratitude for magnificence, though cut short.
What does this oracle bid on the day I apply for Social Security and Medicare?
Enjoy your ability to fly while you can?
Be careful of what is coming your way?
Do you really think society still wants you?
There is beauty even in death?
I regret not plucking a feather to preserve this gift – and now must settle for words, again.

Wisps of Mind

Pleasure, even joy, can be had by the wispiest shift into appreciation of what is served to me, right now. Yes, it could be an IPA, or a red light, or a pain in my wrist, or an unexpected smile, yet perhaps there is no more encouraging bequeathal to us humans than the ability to bypass the auto-rage and find the inner smile when faced with the unexpected.

Even if the anger has risen from my gut, my mind is strong and nimble enough to not take the bait, and let the inner Malotov cocktail go unlit. Bloodstream will re-absorb the chemicals, pulse of the animal will calm – naturally, with the passage of time. Meanwhile, let us speak of our common love, and even let our souls sneak through our minds, into our tongues.