Thoughts In Spring

It is a normal spring day, and i decide to have my lunch break in the local park, the weather is good, warm enough for summer clothes, yet not hot enough to complain about.

I sit on a bench under the shade of a tree, the wind blowing through the tree causing shadows to dance on the well-maintained lawn. The park is a hive of activity today, an assortment of people, professions and past times. A man walks past me in his well pressed business suit, he is not much younger than me, he is talking on his mobile phone, a little to loudly than necessary, trying to sound important to those in earshot of him, or trying to sound important to himself. 

An elderly couple is sat on a picnic blanket on the lawn, their silver hair shinning in the afternoon sun, homemade sandwiches and cakes in brown paper bags, their faces are content, yet their eyes tell a different story, for after a life time of love, sharing and companionship, should one of them pass, the other would be truly alone.

A young female runner runs past them, her toned body a billboard for her generation, her even strides cushioned by the latest running shoes and designer sunglasses to block out the sun. Tight fitting running clothes, to either enhance her performance, or to leave those who look at her an object of desire, sexual and envious, covers her body.

 She runs past a group of teenage school kids, as she passes the boys they mimic the bounce of her breasts with their hands, much to the annoyance of the girls who roll there eyes.

A young couple walk past hand in hand, smiles on their faces as they watch their young toddler kick a bright orange ball, he squeals with delight, his rosy cheeks and innocent eyes oblivious to the hardships he will one day face, but for now he is content will sugar coated treats and colourful images on the T.V.

A small bird takes my attention, a sparrow I think, he is doing a little hop type of dance in front of a cluster of bushes, he then darts into them, coming out with a small bug in his beak, he then flies up into a tree, He returns moments later to do the same thing again.

Yet the more I watch his antics the more I wonder about him.

I wonder if he is feeding his young, is this instinct that drives him to do this, or is it a parental love? Will he get frustrated if he cannot get enough food?

Will his little heart swell with pride when his young take flight for the first time? Does he know of love? Does his heart skip a beat when he sees his mate? Or will it break when one day she does not return? Does he know of fear? Will he cower in the treetops when a storm comes crashing down upon him? Does he know of racism? Do other birds treat him unkind because he is not the same breed as they? Does he know of joy? Will he sing that little bit better when the sun is shinning on a clear day? Does he know of God and the creation? Is he aware of me as i am of him, and knows of man, war and death?

If he is aware of all of these then I feel sorry for him, for why should he suffer the follies of man, and yet if he is not aware I am equally sorry for him for the wonder of life is a thing to behold and the joy and sorrow it brings is a thing to be shared by all.

 

 

Author's Note

This is a work in progress, so i know there will be a few grammar issues, hope you enjoy it, feel free to make a coment

Reviews

[joshua rainbird]

Unfortunately I'm going to confuse you further and say this is not a story, but a reflection, an observational piece, perhaps even a homily, and therefore I feel its anecdotal quality makes it more akin to poetry. It reminded me a bit of Shakespeare's Seven Ages of Man but lacking the brutal harshness that the bard conveyed.

It's an interesting piece full of rich and sentimental, a little too sentimental for my taste, prose. But I find it incongruous how you make assumptions of the child's future and then present a long list of questions about the sparrow. As there is a religious undertone, I was surprised to find it being judgemental; to me this seems an inconsistency when you express such uncertainty as to what the bird will experience.

I also think that it took too long to get to the point.

If this I was to restructure this I would have the people reflecting sequentially different phases of life and how people plan for the next. At the moment it jumps around a bit. Then contrast this with sorrow for the sparrow's limited foresight and inability to prepare, which I think was the general progression.

The other theme that came through was a sense of a lifetime coming to completion, with some regrets that the precious events would not be replayed. If this was the case then I like the subtlety in the way that was conveyed.

Despite their apparent worthlessness, even sparrows are precious.

[Vera Iconica]

i think this is a very good peice. There were only a few mistakes, a letter that should have been capatalized, and this peice is miss catagorized. You put it in poems, and it should probably be in stories.