By Sandy Wilson
I look up, shield my eyes from the hot sun, and follow the bird as it traverses the ice-blue sky, wings languidly caressing the air.
My mind soars with the bird. I visualize below the patchwork of pastures, a palette of warm colors crosscut by meandering veins of green hedges and blue streams. I ponder the purpose of the bird’s lonely journey. Has it a flight plan, a destination; will it meet up with relatives or friends, here or abroad, Africa perhaps?
The bird diminishes, and as it disappears into the horizon’s haze I fall back to Earth.