Time: Real Early in the morning
Place: Los Angeles CA, My block
Suspect: Crystal V. Cotton aka “The Hawk”
My runs are exciting—pumping myself up to run that extra block or pick up the pace just until the next light and then getting to that next light and trying to exceed that goal creating another goal because achieving that last small one was such a thrill! Not to mention an audience—I am an actress let’s not forget—so seeing a cute guy or just anybody taking a min to stop what they are doing and watch you demands a little performance- and pumps me up to my Jackie Joyner stride with a hard facial grill of a determined Serena Williams shredding her opponent to pieces.
Four or Five miles of good neighbor Korea Town concrete and I’m almost back home – floating like a butterfly –wheezing by each block like a bee—listening to the most thugged out music I can find on Pandora (that *ish cray) to run to the finish line with like a champion who just one the Olympics. As I approach my quiet block full of familiar strangers I imagine them as a crowd going wild—happy to see me in the lead of my race- first place- Gooooo Crystal Cotton they scream and yell as if my competitors are close on my tail, Yeahhhhhh—then they get in their cars and go to work. And I go into my apt change and get ready for the rest of my………..hold up! --- It’s one thing to be in your own world and another to be in your own world and all is beautiful then be greeted by some form of Mother Nature that gives pause to perceptions….
On my way home from my run, feeling like an undefeated title winner, I see a pile of pretty white and blue bird feathers that look like they had hit the ground seconds before I arrived, coated with spatters of fresh red blood—only feathers-- no body—only remnants of what looks to be something unpleasant and tragic.
A bird—a symbol of freedom, peace, progress, and prosperity---DEAD…
I watch as people timidly walked around the feathers look up at the tree from where it looks like it had its last stand -evaluated the situation and silently walked away. Anywhoo after another couple minutes of taking in the curious yet bewildering bloody scene I left too. Later I found a Hawk was the culprit or should I just say responsible? …But It got me to thinking that sweet little tweetie bird got up early to get the worm and probably did—but he got jacked- and whether it was not keeping his eye on the skies above, or trying to impress another bird- or just plain 'ol sleeping on the job- tweetie lost his spot and it’s free range for the big Hawk--onward and upward. And I’m sure the hawk is out looking for the next opportunity.
So as I think about this relative to life – I’ll be symbolically emulating that Hawk while still catching flies with honey…J. So going into the new year of 2012 I’ll be using my hawk eyes for every opportunity.
So cheers to the tweetie birds… Enjoy your last meal. ;)
