10-Line Tuesday

January 12, 2010

still life with flying bird

From where we stood, it looked effortless. A hawk hovering
inside the bay wind as if posing for a photograph. An hour earlier,
we’d nearly been knocked over by that same current, shivering 
roadside to fix a flat tire. It was hard to believe this air
could have held that bird so gently. And yet, her body lay still 
as sleep, and the hawk simply floated as if she had forgotten
the haste of hunger, as if home could wait. I wondered how it would feel
to fly into such weather and then let go, to quiet that great flapping
of wings and lean into the stream’s muscle, have it carry us as far
as it wanted while we rested inside it, patient and trusting as ever.