This afternoon ...

Sitting on the bench by the pond in the woods and I hear that familiar mewing cry. Sure enough, through the trees, I see heavy wings flapping. Then, in circles, it starts its ascent until finally glides clear of the tree line.

I watch it riding the air currents high up there. It’s impossible not to feel that the bird is flying for the sheer enjoyment of doing so. Without any other purpose or itinerary or need of self-justification.

Think buzzard.