A bird hits a window in a tower
in Dallas, startling a man at his
desk. A bit of feather and blood
is stuck there. He calls maintenance
but no one comes. It’s all he can see.
He doesn’t want to die while filling
out another form. In the same mo-
ment, an old rancher in Montana
drops his hammer while nailing a
fence his father built. As he dies,
the extra nails fall from his mouth.
In the same moment, a waitress in
New Hampshire, late for work, thinks
she might rush that left turn off route
13, but she waits. While waiting, a fox
appears in the snow. She’s never seen
a fox. As she makes the turn, the fox
disappears and the canopy of maples,
growing toward each other for years,
welcomes her to a timeless place
where windows and fences and
rushing can’t go.
This excerpt is from my book, The Way Under The Way: The Place of True Meeting, 2016 Nautilus Award Winner.
*photo credit: Pixabay