Lunedi, 24 Augosto — Bella Tempo
Last evening Many and I ate our dinner on the lower patio; leftover stuffed bell peppers, with delicious Olathe, Colorado, corn, plus steam broccoli from out garden, as well as fresh tomatoes with basil from the garden.
For whatever reason a dove perched above us in the tree shading us and the dove proceeded to coo-coo us as we dined.
An evening mellowed by a bird and tasty food with our mutual companionship. Does it have to get any better than this? Not for us. I know life is a lot worse in the Syria’s of this world, as well as in poverty-stricken pockets of the U.S. of A. and numerous third worlds.
So our pastoral moment is aware of the tragedy of the world, as well as the peaceful coo-cooing. As we dined I watched a sparrow hawk fly up and sink its talons into the cross beam of the power pole in the alley. As it stared down and looked for prey I was reminded of the headless sparrow I found in the driveway yesterday. I wondered if I should continue to feed the birds we love, setting them up for the hawk’s killing.
I cannot stop the pain.
I cannot curl up like the bear and ignore it neither.
I cannot stop the bullets.
Cannot sing lullabies to the hungry babies in Africa, nor console their mothers’ aching hearts.
Nor the swoop and attack of the hawk, nor the hunger of the birds, nor the coo-cooing.
But, as the coo-cooing stops and we carry our plates and corn cobs to the kitchen, I can sing in gratitude, for this moment.