Thursday, April 14, 2016

THE FOUR BIRDS AND THE BLOSSOMING BLOOMS



It could be seen that it was the first genuinely warm day. There had been hints of days such as that. An hour here. A an entire morning there. A surprising and benevolent afternoon of warm sunshine. But it had not yet gotten well enough to last the hours through and through. And if keenly aware, a surveyor could sense and see the markings of the universe there in the forest paths and surrounding areas. Splashes of yellow wildflowers, still small, so low to the ground, but there! Something purple or red in the distance- maybe some plant or weird bird hiding in a tree, the top of an old Oak cut down by lightning or wind. And what else is around. Birds. The sounds, the songs. And four large ones that come around over the horizon line, looking at the land, probably watching for rodents or other. They come closer and it seems that they are impossibly large. Looking at the ground. And the one on the ground looking up at them. Canines stop and wonder. And it goes like that. Sandpits in the sun. Wild shrubs and odd red buds swaying in the afternoon wind. The nearby hill, accepting the blue sky. The entire world there becoming alive.

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