This morning I woke up to the rustle in the pile of dry burgundy-beige leaves on the ground being feverishly pushed aside by a squirrel and a silent, soaring flight of an eagle stunning contrasted against a slate-grey sky.
The squirrel’s head was buried inside the leaves and its body acutely arched upward then slopping down a bit where its tail began.It ended with the somewhat fanned out tail pointing skyward. I then looked up to check the overcast sky and found a solitary eagle riding early morning thermal. From its wobbly wing movement it appeared that the thermal may not be so strong as to help it glide.
In a stunning way, yet again, Nature offered its parenthesis of sentience. Parenthesis of sentience? What does that mean, Mr. Chhaya, if anything at all? All I know is that it sounds grandly poetic. Meaning is secondary to what it sounds like whether it has any. I like that. I like constructs which have grandiosity but no apparent meaning. In fact, I am going a step further with my headline which sounds even grander.
I had to paint the eagle. I avoided painting the squirrel because you know no one pays me to read this blog. This much is not a bad deal for free-loading.