Monday

 

It was light enough to see, even though the sun was not yet up.  Birds were going from tree to tree as if they had to select the right one quickly before the music stopped.  A line of serious flightless turkeys walk single file along the edge of the woods, looking as though they have someplace they needed to be.  Oblivious to most everything, two squirrels chased each other across my yard and up and around a tree trunk.  “Tag, you’re it.”  “No, I’m not, you missed me.” 

Over there, somewhere, humans, the ones keeping track of time and days of the week, were getting ready for work.  Some were scarfing a bowl of cereal, others just grabbing a piece of toast, but all headed for the line of cars packed in and along the freeway.  None of them moving more than an inch at a time, all flightless, in a straight line, as if they were heading someplace important.

 

In a different part of the world, the sun now higher in the sky, throws shadows and elevates sounds, as a Sargent, separated from his unit, quietly moves from tree to tree, praying he can stay hidden from the enemy he imagines to be all around him.  Longing for a simple bowl of cereal, his stomach growls.  He wonders if anyone back in Bloomington heard it.