posted on Oct, 2 2005 @ 05:07 PM
The sun beats down the trees, drooping in this calm heat, fading colours from the leaves hanging limply from the boughs. Not a bird has heart to sing
as the cicadas electric clamour is amplified in the stifling quiet.
He sits in the shadows, motionless, seeing nothing but the bitter harvest of his many years. A rumpled jacket lies on the boards at his feet, the
denim blending softly with faded shades of blue to the rough grey wood of the porch. The bottle of Jack, nearly empty, adds a touch of rich brown to
the scene and sloshes softly as he picks it up for one more sip.
Raising his leathery lined face to drink, he squints into the bleached sky, and is held by the sight of a Bald Eagle passing over the treetops. Wings
motionless, it glides slowly across his view. The bottle, close to his lips, is held momentarily as he watches this noble bird, so meaningful to him.
Then, just as he was about to look away and take that drink, he sees the eagle turn his head and look directly into his eyes.
A smile comes across his face and rises into his eyes. Leaning over, he sets the bottle down, picks up the tattered jacket and getting up turns his
feet to that old wide glide parked by the creek.