Senses Rising Upward
Upward flies our sense; thus it is a parable of
our body, a parable of elevation. - Nietzsche
Yellow-shafted flicker darts across my line of vision from thorn tree to cliff ledge
animating crown of rock face. Cold February day sighting a bird not seen in
years. Possibly resorting to those indigestible red berries starlings, mockingbirds,
& even gulls do, when half-starved. Man takes up too much World. Across the
way both Cap Victor & Nordstrength empty holds of oil. There’s an expanse to
the air today reaching east & north, demarcated at intervals by minor clouds,
enhanced by steady wind evident from tree limb to waves at sea level inducing
the hard-won balm of Freedom. Flicker may be hungry, but Free. I’m skipping
lunch, again, hungry to see as much as I can, despite the cold. Hours, days mean
a great deal to someone living in the moment, senses rising upward, keeping
resentment at bay.
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