hard

Off the A40 western bypass it is hard for all types of wildlife. Walking down the bike path there is the thundering of traffic consuming the air. Birds dare not fly over the roads between the hedgerows at this rush time. Some do and risk death. Their bodies lie on the edge of the road in places. I pick one up and toss it closer toward the hedge. The tail feathers are beautifully irredescent and draw the gaze. I am reluctant to touch the rotting carcass but I venture to pull the primary wing feathers apart to reveal a strikingly marked white half-marking on each. I am staggered by this beautiful thing deep down although I can't explain exactly why. Of all the vice pulls of the city they are nothing in comparison with my passion. It draws on my mind continually. When I walk back in to the convenience of the city where I live it is a strange place. Everyone hides their emotions. In the country, all the creatures (plants as well as birds and mammals) do not hide their feelings. The plants, such as flowering weeds, show their characteristics for bees to source them for food, simultaneously showing that they are hardy, perennial (flowering every year), and perhaps even suggesting whether they are edible. But when I walk in the city, people hide their feelings, and rush. They live in a different system. I prefer the system in the country. It seems wiser somehow. It makes me sad that we do not take the time to appreciate the moments of life, as the creatures who live in the quiet places do.