Ride the Wind

Floating. Just. Floating.

Eyes closed. Wings open. I can’t feel the difference between my feathers and the warm wind.

Drifting.

I rose with the sun, shook the night off with a tousle and bolted into the dawning sky. I could see everything, sparkling, covered in dew. I could hear the world waking up with me.

Plans for the day: Eat, fly, eat, play, nap, eat. I mean, it’s not a very exciting life, but it’s all mine. And it’s beautiful.

Focus. This is my life, too. Focus. Focusing. Always attentive.

But you know what I get to see? Mice, scurrying, gathering nuts and seeds and grasses. Hunting in their own little way. Bees, buzzing, pollen-laden, heavy. The dash of a squirrel, water lapping on a lake shore, the glint of a fish just beneath the surface. I see it all, because I watch. And it’s beautiful.

And primal.

Other birds are awake right now, too. They would be the easiest. I know the way they move. Squirrels, though, squirrels will still surprise me sometimes and pull some ninja-jedi maneuver that will take them just out of my grasp. Too bad for them, I like a challenge.

There are fields for miles and miles out here. Rich with life. Rich with food.

Feathers. Heartbeat. Flash. Wings up, talons down. Dive. Squeak. Lift.

Eat.

I perch above my favorite on-ramp. Watching the cars pass beneath me. Creating their own heat, creating their own wind. And feeling it all. The cars passing underneath are almost hypnotic and I drift off, lulled by the movement.

A very angry, very loud honk shakes me from my reverie. So upset, people are always so upset. Ruffling my own feathers, I look around. Nothing much has changed. The sun is higher. The squirrels and rabbits are resting in the midday heat.

Cars are still moving beneath me. I wonder about their lives, often. Always rushing, whirring.

Opening my wings, stretching the tips out, balancing, pressing down, and letting go. Focus. Feel. There’s so much to feel.

Flying is like music, notes, gliding, smooth. Smooth like whiskey, smooth like water.

Tuck my wings and spin, spiral. Unfold. Catch the wind.

My day is filled with the same thing, over and over again. But so different. So much movement, so much life. Everything around me tells a tale. Everything around me has something to show. Even the wind.

Especially the wind.

You could see it too, if you just tried.