we might make love in some sacred place.

photo from flickr

Some time ago, I was sitting in the truck while my mom took Hunter to his class. She was gone at least a good ten minutes, so I sat there, listened to some music…then I looked up and saw birds pouring across the sky in droves. Little black blurs in the sky over the school, couples dipping and soaring in bigger groups. Every time it slackened up, a few more birds would skitter across the clouds and it would begin again. It stopped as soon as Mom got back to the truck and opened the door. I felt like I’d just seen a miracle.

Yesterday, I was sitting in the car again, this time listening to Damien Rice, thinking about the birds, and I looked up to the sky and there they were. Not nearly as many, but still enough to be obvious, outlined by a pretty pink-gold sunrise. Damien Rice was “hallelujah”ing in my ear, and there were birds again.

Strange and wonderful, the things that make us want to live.

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