HIGH COUNTRY ARCHER

Wind glides softly through the forest somehow reaching every part of the deepest reaches with minimal effort.Every branch on each tree is effected and starts a perfect swaying dance. As the winds ebb and flow so does the dance, the forest is alive all around me moving in a timeless crescendo of gyrating limbs. Far above the treetop

dance a red tailed hawk uses the same wind to ride a northbound thermal, he flaps his great wings once in a while covering great distances as he rides the wind. Above him a glittering jet streaks aceoss the sky leaving a trail in the clouds to announce its passing. My eyes search again for the hawk but he had disappeared among the great expanse of sky. All around me the forest slowly goes still as the winds subside and the dance ends among the branches. Far up the jet still scars the perfect sky with its push against nature I make a mental note to be more like the wind and the hawk and leave no scars across the sky as I move through life. Sometimes silence rings louder than a jet engine once we realize that we can move with the wind instead of against it. Hawk a/ho