with the first of march, the milan returned. i looked up, and there he was, high in the sky. back from wherever he spent winter. i stood, then went to get the camera. when i returned, he was just a spot at the horizon. so i now looked for a photo from the files.
and i had a winged dream tonight. i stood in a room with a large glass front. there were some crows in the wind outside. one flew a huge circle, then headed towards the glass. and flew through the glass. through this massive transparent border. just like that. like in that zen-saying of just walking through a wall. then it continued its circle. and when it reached the glass again, flew out threw it again.
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