Whether hawk or eagle, I do not know. Despite my love of nature, the faces of her children I have not learned. He was gliding upon the strong wind’s thermals while I walked in the same wind’s dust pecking at my skin and eyes. One soaring. One fighting. A chance look upward to see, perhaps, why I gather feathers.
Don't bother me.I've justbeen born.The butterfly's loping flightcarries it through the country of the leaves...for long delicious moments it is perfectlazy, riding motionless in the breeze on the soft stalkof some ordinary flower.…..For years and years I struggledjust to love my life. And thenthe butterflyrose, weightless, in the wind."don't love your lifetoo much," it said,and vanished into the world.-Mary Oliver “Ample Rain”