What else is there to share with friends than the moment? Anything longer is contrived.
This evening in my French garden a lost homing pigeon has arrived and is perching on a beam in the barn. I guess by his accent he is English. Every few minutes he takes off and circles the town before being drawn back by some invisible magnet as sticky as the human soul to the beam in my barn. He/she is lost and miles from home. Maybe in the dawn the bird will find the way or maybe it will die, confused and alone.
This life is a concoction of unseen beauty and unacknowledged suffering. Fly little bird. Please find your way home.
Emma thinx: Home - what the homeless have not.
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| Homing pigeon - you can just see the leg ring on the right. |
This life is a concoction of unseen beauty and unacknowledged suffering. Fly little bird. Please find your way home.
Emma thinx: Home - what the homeless have not.
As we go through life, we are all like the homing pigeon. Testing our wings, seeing how far our journeys will take us, and always hoping to find our way home again.
ReplyDeleteHope he flew away ... perhaps he was on his hols! On our recent trip to France we found ourselves talking in French (very basic French I have to admit) to a dog because we thought English might confuse him! It sparked quite a surreal conversation between my husband and I about animals and languages ... I hope we didn't confuse the poor dog - our accents weren't the best!
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