He perched there. On my porch. Bulging-bellied lil' feller. His coif an iridescent blue. His body beneath his stunning wings, a downy warm, grey, winter white and dramatic strokes of tuxedo black. Mr. Bluejay. Why had he graced my breakfast window view?
Native Americans have assigned a symbology to the animal world. Certain ones symbolize wisdom: owls, turtles, snakes. Some: blessings. And that was the meaning I gave to this winged creature of pure innocence that soon flew northeast from my black iron porch railings.
Blessings. And, sentient being. One with me. And, oh, what my kind has done to his. Choked their lungs with chemicals that propel machines and humankind. He and his kind, just as valuable as mine. Interdependent. Sentinels of our own destruction. In many ways his kind wiser than mine. Living in the moment, this one present.
Image by: Jeff S. Photo/Art
