Everything happening at once. Like the tumble dry cycle, spinning, bumping, prodding, landing only to be flung again, against. As long as there is movement there is life. At every stage, in all conditions. The busier the better. Even in rest there is change. Seventeen grackles outside right now, drawing my eye from the screen to the window. They are magnificent in their indifference to obstacles like other creatures, their size relative to the feeders, the invasive nature of their appearance here. Settle in, settle down, find a home. No different than the rest of us. Find a home. In a perfect world, the best home ever. Like a prayer, the chipmunks criss-cross the patio at top speed, each sleek little mammal a marvel of eyeliner trim and piercing bright eyes. Fresh water in the bird bath for bathing and drinking. No distinction. Water is water. We're no different. At least, not yet.
RSS Feed