as if afloat with an innocence new to the grasp of gravity, a piece of plumage greets me on a quiet morning   slowly, like in a dream, this tiny tuft from a bird falls, towards a place much harder and crueler than itself   I turn away from this tuft-sized fluff of optimism before it hits the ground, hoping its soft purity imprints something beautiful in me   after all, my heart like every other, has never heard of “Sir Isaac Newton” and whatever it is he discovered

What did I say?   I meant the white cloud floating in a blue sea that looks quite lonely as the sky finally swallows it   perhaps its white memory will be so overwhelmed it’ll be convinced it was only, ever, blue   like a big dog in danger will sometimes revert to the timidity of a tiny one   or hummingbirds who upsize courage and chase ravens out of their territory   anything can turn a desperate moment into a memory that floats away from the truth

If I trace the path your dog walks, it couldn’t be more similar to the line of anyone’s life   so many stops, starts, diversions, turnarounds and surprises, far from the arc that was planned   actually, you may have noticed, even crows don’t always fly straight, as the saying goes   they’re circling above my palm trees right now, diving and laughing, having a blast   God knows I’ve done that - find an excuse to break the straight boring line of my life   and do a crazy zigzag