It all started because . . .

I was riding my bike on the road my father-in-law calls the Cote d'Esprit Noir but that is known around here as Cane Creek Road. It was earlier this summer in Georgia and it was still and bright and hot. I was working a bit--working hard for me that is--not really conscious of the terrain that I have cycled past so many times, when a hawk passed over head. It was the only thing, besides me, moving, and it swooped kind of low. I think its shadow caught my attention and when I looked up it had moved directly over my head and was head across a field. In its talons dangled a snake. It was beautiful and gone in a minute, the hawk taking long, massive flaps and disappearing into a stand of trees on the far side of the pasture.

It reminded me of the Mexican flag, of Robert Penn Warren, and of the fact that I'm alive in a marvelous world if I'd just take the freakin' time to see it.