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Tuesday, November 1, 2011


 I walk through the grass. Past the flowers, past the trees. Beyond the blackberry. I walk to the forest. I stand at the edge of my boundary. Wanting, longing. I look to the ground and see. A feather. A hawks. The bird I connect to him. A gift. I pick it up but know I can not keep it. Their rules, not my own. I wait and wish and hope. That I can keep this gift. This gift I want for my own. I let go. And see. It fly across the boundary.

  I run through the blackberry. Hunted, searching, chasing. For what I know not. I run to were I found it. The gift. The feather. I stand on the boundary. This time unafraid. There is no feather. I run across the line. I could never cross before. It takes me to the sea. And the mountains. And back to the place were. I last saw. My feather. My gift. In front of me. A wolf. Silver. It howls. Exhilarated, I see. Under it's paw. My feather. The wolf lifts it's paw. The gift is gone.

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