Back in the early days of summer, I had a dream about a bird - a dead bird. Its lifeless, feathery body lay on the back deck inside the lattice where the cats sit. Concerned the cats would get it, I moved the body just outside of lattice wide enough for a cat's paw to reach through, covered all but the feet with a napkin, then sat down to read. In that weird way of dream logic, it just made sense.
As I was reading, I caught the fluttering movement of a white napkin out of the corner of my eye, wings quivering. The bird got up, walked to the end of the deck, took a look back at me (or maybe it didn't look back after all) and flew away. It's been so long that I dont remember. I only know that he was gone.
Months later, just after the end of summer, I am thinking about people who have left. Friends, loves, one in particular. Do they ever think of me? Does he ever think of me? Or, like birds, do the just soar away?
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