birdwatcher

The birdwatcher watched. That is what he did. Every day, every week, every month, every year. Not just birds, as the name implies. He watched life. He watched behaviors, and feelings too. He watched in order to learn. He watched to find meaning. 

A union on a sunny beach. He saw the brightly colored flowers, he saw the smooth shining ring. He felt the faith, he felt the hope. They were happy, and he was happy. He watched two doves held in two hands. He watched their white feathers flutter. He watched them fly away. He was sad.

He ate by the window, as he did every morning. He watched the birds, as he had every morning. He fed them leftover pancakes, as he would every morning. 

A sound grabbed his attention. He heard a coo. Another. He watched their white feathers flutter. He watched them fly away. He was happy.

And he saw they were faith.

And he saw they were hope.

A schism in a dim court. He saw the dingy cold walls, he saw the dull wood gavel. He felt the anger, he felt the wrath. They were sad, and he was sad. He watched two forms held in two hands. He watched their white sheets flutter. He watched them sign away. He was sad.

He ate by the window, as he did every morning. He watched the birds, as he had every morning. He fed them leftover pancakes, as he would every morning. He listened for a coo, as he will every morning.

He heard the coo. Another. He watched their white feathers flutter. A cat on the fence. He heard a scream. Another. He watched one fly away, he looked north. He watched another fly away, he looked south. He was sad.

And he saw one was anger.

And he saw one was wrath.

An entrance on a soft bed. He saw the glowing warm lights, he saw the tiny woven hat. He felt the faith, he felt the hope, he felt the love. They were happy, and he was happy. He watched one bundle held in two hands. He watched its white blanket flutter. He watched it cry away. He was happy.

He eats by the window, as he did every morning. He watches the birds, as he had every morning. He feeds them leftover pancakes, as he would every morning. He listens for a coo, as he does every morning.

He hears the coo. Another. A third, newly hatched. He watches their white feathers flutter. He watches them fly away.

And he sees they are faith.

And he sees they are hope.

And he sees they are love.

“I am happy”

The birdwatcher watches. That is what he does. Every day, every week, every month, every year. Not just birds, as the name implies, though he has a special liking for doves. He watches life. He watches behaviors, and feelings too. He watches in order to learn. He watches to discover meaning. He watches the birds.