A black crow and a blue jay.
On a hot summer day, they dance through the concrete jungle. They glide to and fro' power lines. Their kind was here before us-----long before us. We walk below them in a sea of gray accented by color but only for fleeting moments. We say we pity them. Many lament that we cut their homes down in favor of monuments to our own pleasure.
But they feel no sorrow.
They own the blue skies.
Their kind will be here after us-----long after us.
And they will be forever free.
On the balcony of an office high rise, a young man smokes a hand rolled cigarette. Behind him, an office of worker bees sits buzzing in anticipation. Monday's work, like the queen bee of the hive, beckons the attention of all those inside.
The young man looks on at the black crow and the blue jay.
He flicks his cigarette.
He takes a deep breath, "At least someone's enjoying today."
He walks inside.
Written on my back porch. June 15, 2018.