the hawk and pioneer thoughts, a tale of two directions
we were headed west flying on the sunset taking the road to the coast bob said look two hawks one swooped from a tree maybe in a mating move or a fighting fit i glanced back at the road then the whole windshield filled with curved expanse of bird spanning like a practical joker's hand before my eyes i could tell you many useless facts concerning how each small feather strained, refusing to die but not exactly what kept we three from a short sharp splat
somehow the hawk adjusted flew over the SAAB's roof resumed flight and we motored on undisturbed we thought it could be an omen but we knew not of what
different day we were headed north scooting home from sunny Roseburg on five in the Willamette Valley before Salem i had a sudden thought of pioneers wondering at the measure of things imagining walking from Independence MO to here to find that this fertile valley was in fact huge so big that choosing where to claim your acres was probably a task in itself
would you pick a bit with a good overlook or view believing in gods and scenery or instead nestle in a huddle at the base of one volcanic hill trusting shelter
would you pick a plain beside a creek or some hook or bend which like a fly caught your fancy
and how then to get from start to stable food supply and a cache of stuff a car, two, an old boat rotting out by the barn
then yearning for learning or an inexplicable love of lars larsen
a life harvesting filberts or wine selling pups pigs pies bearing descendants great grand children
at highway speed history flashes like an old man glimpsed he proves sharp as a hawk catches you unawares
David Ritchie Portland, Oregon
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