Learning to Fly


The wings that you must carry on your back can be a burden or you can learn to fly.

It’s a dark, gray, rainy day and the sky is the color of wet cement. It is the afternoon but it is so dark outside that I must put a light on. A big-footed bird alights on the top of the trellis outside the window. I press my face against the glass to get a better look. The bird has such big feet because it is a Peregrine Falcon. Its talons are holding a small bird and it rips the sparrow to pieces with its beak while it eats perched precariously twelve stories high. The bird is a dull gray and blends in with the sky except for the two white markings on its breast and both sides of its head. It is only a juvenile but I am amazed that it is surviving in the city and paying little heed to the drizzling rain. It is so beautiful, rare to see especially close up, and out of reference for the city, that I will try to encourage it to come back again. Since it is a carotene eater I’m going to get some feathers and some chicken and tie it to the top of the trellis. American Indians say it’s good luck when the Falcons appear near you.

 Life lives on life. We all eat and are eaten. When we forget this, we cry, when we remember this, we can nourish one another. Satoru

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