A Common Moment of Fierce Passing
He wished it could’ve been a Sand County moment,
like when young Aldo saw the fierce green fire die in that old wolf’s eyes.
But it wasn’t anywhere near that poetic or endangered.
He saw the flame dying in a common housefly.
He’d swatted it down earlier cursing its existence as nuisance.
After all, it wouldn’t stay off his bison burger and sweet potato fries.
Yet hours later in the corner of the kitchen that fly still raged against
the blacking out of all the bright in its compound eyes with 8,000 lenses each.
The surviving surprised him, hearing that faint buzz, seeing that
winged refusal to give in after being bullied about by someone larger.
The will to persist runs hot in God’s handiwork, that pulsing to finish the day
at hand and try at it again tomorrow. He thought fewer flies meant more relaxing
dinnertimes but after finally mercy-killing the rankest fly he’d ever seen he felt neither the fly nor the maker of flies agreed with such a sketchy view.
at hand and try at it again tomorrow. He thought fewer flies meant more relaxing
dinnertimes but after finally mercy-killing the rankest fly he’d ever seen he felt neither the fly nor the maker of flies agreed with such a sketchy view.
I know…
I thought you would, James. Thanks.
I want to comment…to affirm…but I don’t know what to say. Except I really loved this. For someone who always has words and teaches/rehabs others into using them, sometimes I feel so speechless. Or at least devoid of something intelligent to say when I want it to come…
‘Except I really loved this.’ That line speaks volumes, Gretchen…or if not volumes, enough for me. Many thanks.
I think I have entirely too many sketchy views of all kinds of things. Thanks for this reminder to keep hoping for fewer of those.
Thanks, Diana. Have you ever read A Sand County Almanac?
No, I have not. But I will now. Thanks.
I love how you take the time to capture the common and paint it magnificent.
Patricia, sometimes the painting is in retrospect, isn’t it?…after the not-so-magnificent. Thanks so much!
strangely encouraging. thank you.
also, i recently read in “early morning – remembering my father” by kim stafford; “you can lie at a banquet but you have to be honest in the kitchen.”
Nancy, I love that line from Stafford! Thank you.
The will to persist runs hot in God’s handiwork, that pulsing to finish the day
at hand and try at it again tomorrow.
You have a remarkable for saying what I need to hear.
Susan