Status: complete
Four Seasons
Four Seasons
I open my eyes to the blinding light of a rising sun. I’m momentarily without site; all I can see is a vast plane of whiteness with floating balls and shapes of colour. The hues all start to bleed together to create a wonderful masterpiece of natural vegetation with human disturbances.
Rising from my nest of twigs and human garbage in the middle of a tree, I perk up and fluff my short black feathers. Winter has finally concluded and I can let the white frost from my wings melt like an ice cube on a hot cement pad.
Beholding the wilderness below my secluded paradise I witness new life all around. Snow is in the process of melting off the fence posts and fields. Grass pokes its long tentacles out from around tree trucks and shrubbery. I can see and hear a small creek that has appeared overnight from the winter run off; its fresh waters enticing all amounts of small and large creatures to drink from its bubbling current. The chilled running water is refreshing compared to the tongue biting harshness of the cold snow of winter.
The geese, that are coming back all to soon from the warmth of the south, honk and flap their wide wing spans as they come in for a slippery landing, their body’s sliding across the ice like curling rocks. They didn’t expect the waters in parts of the creek, ponds, and lakes to still be frozen. Their webbed feet carefully creep over the ice like one walking over shards of glass, trying not to slip.
The smell of spring is in the air. The damp, saturated, succulent air is full of scents of blooms; blooms from budding trees and blossoms from sturdy flowers exploding out of the snow. The fragrance fills my nostrils and gives me a high, I’m so elated. Such a smell cannot be found anywhere but this time of season.
My wings long to take flight into the sky and soar, looking down on this new world and explore; from the tops of the highest trees pine tree to the single blade of grass far below. I want the new spring grass to tickle my feet and make me chirp with happiness. I want to find love and make love. I want to explore to the ends of the Earth and never come back.
So I initiate my free fall out of my nest into the unknown. My wings dodge branches of trees and bushes, I fly around tall grass and flowers; all wonderfully coloured. My adrenaline is mounting and my breathing is increasing. Everything is so new and exciting; I want to soak up the whole lot, to experience life to the fullest. Then I hear the crickets and frogs, a sure sign that something is amiss.
Gloom falls upon my soul however, as I look around. It’s summer? I wonder how this change has come to pass in such a short time. The leaves that were just beginning to bloom are now bright green, the fields are in full blossom and the flowers are a rainbow of excitement with their faces smiling up at the sun.
A powerful wind nonetheless, is gusting at my minuet body and I am forced to take cover within a farmer’s culvert beside a road. Rain surprises me as it hits the ground and the sky begins to grow dark in nature. Animals scurry to find a hiding place as the weather worsens. I can feel the beat of my little heart racing out of my chest. The whole world knows what is coming next; there is nothing that can stop it but Mother Nature herself. And she looks to be laughing at us all.
A loud crack sounds and I see a tree to my far right go down into a field, crushing the wheat that hasn’t already been blown over from the wind. Other trees bend and sway to the mighty gusts as objects are thrown through the sky viciously. Purple lightning lights up the prairie sky and thunder rumbles as a shadowy cloud above starts to circle, distributing the fluffy white ones. I can feel the temperature drop as the air is drawn from around me and forced into the vortex of the clouds. I brace myself and hold on tight.
The storm has only lasted a matter of minutes, but it seems to last forever to my shaking weak body. The farmers’ fields are no longer in nice neat rows. The lines are skewed by the maiming of the terrifying wind and flooded with the torrential rain. Trees had their limbs ripped off and thrown across the country side. Some unlucky fellows are up rooted, never to be prosperous again. Human garbage and debris is caught on the tiniest of undergrowth and stuffed into the smallest of holes.
Flower petals are traveling in the dusty air as the other birds soar in the sky to survey the damage. I, myself would rather keep my feet planted on Earth’s black soil for now. Hopping from one rock to another I observe things that have not been affected or removed. Small saplings, thorns, berry bushes, among others have all survived this terrible day. Bunny rabbits and squirrels scamper about angrily trying to collect their food storages that they have been working on since awakening from winter’s long slumber. Sadly some creatures did not make it through the storm; they become part of the food chain. They bodies are left for the coyotes and foxes to take care of, leaving whatever is left to the crows and insects to decompose.
Before my eyes nature seems to mourn with me. The Earth starts to dry out and the fields disappear. Plants and fruit shrivel up and die. Tree leaves turn from green to yellows, red, browns, and blacks. Eventually all that surrounds me is the emptiness of fall.
Animals are all settling down for the winter. The geese checker the sky on their way south, and it triggers recognition in me that I too need to return to my home. But I realize suddenly that I do not know where my beloved home is. Everything has changed. I fly from tree to barren tree trying to find my paradise. The cold wind pushes me on my way, seemingly to lead me somewhere.
I find where the breeze is taking me like a smack to the face. My breath is sucked from my lungs as frost makes its way down to my bronchioles. The season of winter has surrounded me yet again with whiteness as snow starts to fly around me. Only the bravest can endure temperatures that plummet to minus forty degrees Celsius. I am not one of those courageous souls without shelter. I can feel my wings giving out on me, freezing from tip to base. I’m falling, free falling into a soft blanket of snow that has blown against a fence post bordering pasture land.
I look up from the snow to see what must have been a red birdhouse at one time. Propped on top of the post with a couple of rusty screws it sits almost sideways. I ponder the house’s existence. Some human must have put it there for a reason, all newly painted red years ago. Now clearly, long forgotten, it has been left out in the elements like me. Rain and snow biting and chipping away at our exterior until our insides are exposed. Left to watch the sun set over and over without touching its warm rays. Animals and humans alike pass us by, not taking the time of day to glance at us. Time, what an amusing thing, I ponder as my eyelids willingly close shut.
***
Opening my eyes I lift my face away from my pillow, leaving red marks across my cheek. I thrust my tired weary body away from my bed to look down at the novel that I set in front of me before I fell into this doze. Its pages are yellowed with age and odd corners are bent and the top. As I flip to the cover I peer at the prairie landscape with a deserted red birdhouse on the font.
Awareness comes in waves to my mind. I had dreamt it all; being a bird and seeing the passage of time in a matter of minutes. A tear stings my eye as I remember vividly the feeling of flying through the sky with the freedom to go anywhere, to see anything.
But, being that insignificant bird from my imagination has made me contemplate life’s existence. What is the measure of worth? Who/what gets to choose who lives and dies? Does one look at the seasons to measure the passage of time?
Looking at the book gives me hope that there are answers within it, or that it will ignite a curiosity that led my grandfather to buy the old book for me at the used book store. As I read the first line I smile to myself.
“In dreams of four seasons I soar as a bird…”
Rising from my nest of twigs and human garbage in the middle of a tree, I perk up and fluff my short black feathers. Winter has finally concluded and I can let the white frost from my wings melt like an ice cube on a hot cement pad.
Beholding the wilderness below my secluded paradise I witness new life all around. Snow is in the process of melting off the fence posts and fields. Grass pokes its long tentacles out from around tree trucks and shrubbery. I can see and hear a small creek that has appeared overnight from the winter run off; its fresh waters enticing all amounts of small and large creatures to drink from its bubbling current. The chilled running water is refreshing compared to the tongue biting harshness of the cold snow of winter.
The geese, that are coming back all to soon from the warmth of the south, honk and flap their wide wing spans as they come in for a slippery landing, their body’s sliding across the ice like curling rocks. They didn’t expect the waters in parts of the creek, ponds, and lakes to still be frozen. Their webbed feet carefully creep over the ice like one walking over shards of glass, trying not to slip.
The smell of spring is in the air. The damp, saturated, succulent air is full of scents of blooms; blooms from budding trees and blossoms from sturdy flowers exploding out of the snow. The fragrance fills my nostrils and gives me a high, I’m so elated. Such a smell cannot be found anywhere but this time of season.
My wings long to take flight into the sky and soar, looking down on this new world and explore; from the tops of the highest trees pine tree to the single blade of grass far below. I want the new spring grass to tickle my feet and make me chirp with happiness. I want to find love and make love. I want to explore to the ends of the Earth and never come back.
So I initiate my free fall out of my nest into the unknown. My wings dodge branches of trees and bushes, I fly around tall grass and flowers; all wonderfully coloured. My adrenaline is mounting and my breathing is increasing. Everything is so new and exciting; I want to soak up the whole lot, to experience life to the fullest. Then I hear the crickets and frogs, a sure sign that something is amiss.
Gloom falls upon my soul however, as I look around. It’s summer? I wonder how this change has come to pass in such a short time. The leaves that were just beginning to bloom are now bright green, the fields are in full blossom and the flowers are a rainbow of excitement with their faces smiling up at the sun.
A powerful wind nonetheless, is gusting at my minuet body and I am forced to take cover within a farmer’s culvert beside a road. Rain surprises me as it hits the ground and the sky begins to grow dark in nature. Animals scurry to find a hiding place as the weather worsens. I can feel the beat of my little heart racing out of my chest. The whole world knows what is coming next; there is nothing that can stop it but Mother Nature herself. And she looks to be laughing at us all.
A loud crack sounds and I see a tree to my far right go down into a field, crushing the wheat that hasn’t already been blown over from the wind. Other trees bend and sway to the mighty gusts as objects are thrown through the sky viciously. Purple lightning lights up the prairie sky and thunder rumbles as a shadowy cloud above starts to circle, distributing the fluffy white ones. I can feel the temperature drop as the air is drawn from around me and forced into the vortex of the clouds. I brace myself and hold on tight.
The storm has only lasted a matter of minutes, but it seems to last forever to my shaking weak body. The farmers’ fields are no longer in nice neat rows. The lines are skewed by the maiming of the terrifying wind and flooded with the torrential rain. Trees had their limbs ripped off and thrown across the country side. Some unlucky fellows are up rooted, never to be prosperous again. Human garbage and debris is caught on the tiniest of undergrowth and stuffed into the smallest of holes.
Flower petals are traveling in the dusty air as the other birds soar in the sky to survey the damage. I, myself would rather keep my feet planted on Earth’s black soil for now. Hopping from one rock to another I observe things that have not been affected or removed. Small saplings, thorns, berry bushes, among others have all survived this terrible day. Bunny rabbits and squirrels scamper about angrily trying to collect their food storages that they have been working on since awakening from winter’s long slumber. Sadly some creatures did not make it through the storm; they become part of the food chain. They bodies are left for the coyotes and foxes to take care of, leaving whatever is left to the crows and insects to decompose.
Before my eyes nature seems to mourn with me. The Earth starts to dry out and the fields disappear. Plants and fruit shrivel up and die. Tree leaves turn from green to yellows, red, browns, and blacks. Eventually all that surrounds me is the emptiness of fall.
Animals are all settling down for the winter. The geese checker the sky on their way south, and it triggers recognition in me that I too need to return to my home. But I realize suddenly that I do not know where my beloved home is. Everything has changed. I fly from tree to barren tree trying to find my paradise. The cold wind pushes me on my way, seemingly to lead me somewhere.
I find where the breeze is taking me like a smack to the face. My breath is sucked from my lungs as frost makes its way down to my bronchioles. The season of winter has surrounded me yet again with whiteness as snow starts to fly around me. Only the bravest can endure temperatures that plummet to minus forty degrees Celsius. I am not one of those courageous souls without shelter. I can feel my wings giving out on me, freezing from tip to base. I’m falling, free falling into a soft blanket of snow that has blown against a fence post bordering pasture land.
I look up from the snow to see what must have been a red birdhouse at one time. Propped on top of the post with a couple of rusty screws it sits almost sideways. I ponder the house’s existence. Some human must have put it there for a reason, all newly painted red years ago. Now clearly, long forgotten, it has been left out in the elements like me. Rain and snow biting and chipping away at our exterior until our insides are exposed. Left to watch the sun set over and over without touching its warm rays. Animals and humans alike pass us by, not taking the time of day to glance at us. Time, what an amusing thing, I ponder as my eyelids willingly close shut.
***
Opening my eyes I lift my face away from my pillow, leaving red marks across my cheek. I thrust my tired weary body away from my bed to look down at the novel that I set in front of me before I fell into this doze. Its pages are yellowed with age and odd corners are bent and the top. As I flip to the cover I peer at the prairie landscape with a deserted red birdhouse on the font.
Awareness comes in waves to my mind. I had dreamt it all; being a bird and seeing the passage of time in a matter of minutes. A tear stings my eye as I remember vividly the feeling of flying through the sky with the freedom to go anywhere, to see anything.
But, being that insignificant bird from my imagination has made me contemplate life’s existence. What is the measure of worth? Who/what gets to choose who lives and dies? Does one look at the seasons to measure the passage of time?
Looking at the book gives me hope that there are answers within it, or that it will ignite a curiosity that led my grandfather to buy the old book for me at the used book store. As I read the first line I smile to myself.
“In dreams of four seasons I soar as a bird…”