Monday, October 13, 2014

Are you paying attention?

“Everything is perfect, darling.” There is a familiar echo as I recognize the voice as my own. She is older, wiser, and checks in on me when I am between the stages of sleep and awake; when I can still taste and breathe the visions from where I was just visiting. 

My pleasing routine is to brush the sleep out of my eyes, say a few words of gratitude, then shuffle to the bathroom, release and refresh; wash my hands, face and then come to my drawing table, turn on my computer and spend the next hour typing out what I remember, intentionally what I feel.

Two crows fly by the window as I wait for my computer to load. 

I sat here yesterday with a similar view: waves crashing from five foot swells as the trees danced wildly with whimsical rooted elegance. The forefront of evergreens with hues of burnt orange in the splintered needles, dividing my eyes from the stirring ultramarine horizon and its’ backdrop of a crisp washed-out blue tinted sky sharing wisps of white accents that curl the frothing waves.

But yesterday, I saw only one - one big beautiful black bird, again a crow, shimmering like wet onyx, surfing the wind.  He didn’t move for quite awhile, but hung there flawlessly aligned like a statue suspended in mid air with outstretched wings and long distinct black feathers as fingers. He was massive, perhaps a four foot wing span tip to tip. The largest crow I had ever seen up here.

Throughout the day, I caught glimpses of him floating there though I never actually saw him circle around. Each time, he was just there, pointed in the same direction facing the wind, suspended in perfect flight.  
{Excerpt: "My Life with a Pen" by Andrea Currie}

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