The Crane.

The crane was on the water again today. His elegant neck stretched out into the sky whence he came. He's like me, always wings, ready to fly away at any moment. I look for him every morning. He's always alone amongst the ducks, bending his legs this way or that. I love to watch the way the water flows past his tiny skinny legs as if they weren't even there. The water flows beneath the bridge on which I stand. I like to ignore all of the street happening, the sound of hurried horns and engines revving their way to work. I stare at the crane, at the rocks, and the water and I forget for what seems like forever that I am headed nowhere on this road, that this bridge will take me someplace I have no reason to be. So, I pay attention to the leaves on the trees and they way they fall and I watch the swallows leap about and chirp. It is in these things, all at once, that I am truly alive and that I truly forget.