Ruby’s Story – The Storm

She stood at the oak tree overlooking town. A storm was rolling in. Flashes of lighting could be seen in the distance. She watched the storm for  a few minutes. Marveling at the sun hitting her back, and the slowly approaching storm. It always fascinated her when the weather was split so noticeably.

She knew, by how slow the storm was approaching, she had a few more minutes to watch before she headed into town for shelter. She had work in ten minutes, and would have to get moving regardless of the storm.

She was thankful she had a few more minutes to observe the split wonder of nature. The sun still lingered behind her. The storm slowly, but determinedly, moving toward her. She hoped it was the type of storm that moved out the same way because there was something metaphoric about a storm moving out slowly with the sun lighting the sky behind it. Slowly, burning the storm away.

Slightly smiling, she walked to work. Knowing it would be a slow day. Most people would stay in because of the storm.

Crow

Perched on the deck railing. Looking all around. He caws once. Enough to get my attention. My attention captured. He starts his dance. Bouncing up and down on the railing, head bobbing. I can almost hear the music he must be listening to. His feet catch the rhythm; send him jumping all around. Now his head is bobbing, feet are jumping, tail feathers are twitching, and he starts singing. Caws of music. Rhythm all his own. He is joy. He is light. He is music.

Captured, But Not Captive

Hawk perched on the wooden dowel. Waiting for his meal. His wing grew stronger with the passing of each day. He knew it would not be long before he was soaring high in the heavens. How he longed to be free.

The women who found him and fixed him; talked to him daily. Letting him know he would not be a prisoner there. He would be strong enough one day to soar again.

He tried to patiently wait for the day of his release. While knowing he would miss some of his healing days, as the women who tended him, gave him hope. Her kind eyes always met his piercing gaze as she handed him his meal.

He planned to watch over her when he was free. Keeping the mice and rabbits out of her yard.

Owl Grant Your Wish

Owl sat on his tree limb, waiting, as always, for a wish to buzz by.

Bzzz, Bzzz, Bzzz…

“There it is!” He laughed.

Grabbing it out of the air with his beak. He quickly grasped it in his talons, and gently unfolded it.

“I wish for a new bike.” The wish said.

“We will see.” thought Owl.

He closed his eyes and brought up a vision of the boy who wished for a new bike.

The boy was playing with a group of kittens, who’s mom was out hunting a meal for them. The boy had sandy blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a heart that shone brightly.

Owl smiled and choose to grant the wish.

The next day, Timmy, the boy who wished for a bike, was in town with his mom. They were buying groceries.

Upon leaving the store, Timmy saw an ad for a bike, like the one he wished for. He asked his mom if he could have the bike. She smiled and said they would have to see how much it cost.

Timmy sighed. Praying it did not cost much.

It turned out, the boy who owned the bike had bought a new bike and wanted to pass his old bike onto someone else.

The someone else turned out to be Timmy.

Opportunities Are Knocking

I heard a tapping at the door. Grumbling to myself, I uncurled from my seat, set my book down, and went to the door.

You stood there. Disheveled and ragged. It was hard to tell if the rain caused your unappealing appearance, or if you naturally looked that way. Tufts of blonde stuck out in all directions.

Your eyes sought mine. Pleading for shelter. Pleading for warmth and comfort from the storm.

The covered porch was keeping you dry for now, but the wind howled in gusts causing those blond tufts to continuously rearrange in a new disheveled state.

Pleading, soulful, brown eyes looked at me.

I knew what would happen if I let you in. I knew you would steal my heart. Uproot my life. Even knowing this, I stepped aside.

You trotted past. Sniffing at the table where my keys lay in a bowl. Tail slightly wagging; you looked back at me. In your eyes was relief to be warm and pleading to be accepted.

I patted your head, and suggested you get dry and fed. You grinned. More at the prospect of eating, then the drying part, I know.

Dry, fed, and warm. You sat at my feet while I posted a picture of you on the lost and found. Praying you were not lost to someone, but found.

The Door Has Opened

You waited a long time to finally notice. 
My bags are packed.
My foot is out the door.

You cry,
"But, Wait! I will try harder! I Promise!"
Truth is, I have waited excruciatingly long for you to try a little bit,

For you to show me you even knew I existed.
I cannot wait anymore.

The door has opened.
One foot is resting on freedom.
The other foot is tapping it's goodbye.

See you.
Never.
Not even in the next life.
Goodbye.