I saw a bird standing among what looked like a bed of small white flowers
as the bird bent down, the flowers seemed to lift and float before settling down to the ground
as I watched closer, my eyes making their way through the still darkness of early morning
I saw the truth of the bird's movements, he was tearing into, and ripping away from a form his talons grasped and stood above
It was not till later when I ventured down stairs, and out of doors into daylight that I knew what creature he was feasting upon, what had fallen
another bird
As I lay sleeping, gently dreaming, this story, this battle of life and death took place in (what I think of as) my backyard.
Every day vast and small, epic battles to those involved occur over and over of which often I am blissfully unaware.
This occupies my mind from time to time, this over-lapping of space, this not truly knowing each other, what goes on in the very ground I walk upon, the worms, the insects, in the grass, in the trees, the plants, even the very air that flows through this space, all the little actions and interactions involved, of which much of, I know not much of.
2 comments:
What a wonderful nugget, a story stemming from the revelation. I love how it unfolded before you, appearing as one thing, revealing itself as quite another.
You are a wonderful witness, with great eyes and a gentle heart. This combination makes for evocative storytelling.
Witnessing,
Generous as usual you are, thank you.
I preferred my first impression, though the truth of nature/life is what I am trying to no longer struggle so against. To accept. We get to live, but we must die.
I felt silly after I realized what it was. Why would I, at my age, be more likely to assume a small bed of flowers had instantly sprung up around this bird, forming a ground halo, than to immediatley think of bits of feathers or fur scattered about?
But the heck with wondering why, I like the way you are seeing my seeing, so I will try and hold to that today instead.
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