Flight

This morning I woke very early and went out to feed the feral cats just as the sky was turning from dark gray to lighter gray. I heard bird calls, and looked up to see a wedge of nine fowl (I'm not sure what species— the light was still dim) flying east. A moment later, a wedge of five came by. I glanced west to see if more wedges were coming, but instead I saw three young hawks wheeling and swooping, moving slowly after the two wedges of larger waterfowl.

The hawks were skimming the treetops, or sometimes darting between branches. They remained perfectly silent, and their wings rarely moved as they rode the rising air. I watched until the entire parade had vanished behind the pine woods. The birds returned to my thoughts all the gray morning, and again when the sun emerged for awhile in the afternoon. I expect that I'll dream about them tonight, though I rarely remember my dreams so I'll probably never know.