Isaiah's eagles

We had pulled off the road and parked the car. Our doors clicked in unison as we hustled down the path, anxious not only to get out of the car but to see just what it was on the other edge of the cliff.

Dad had a pretty good idea. A tall, gushing, foaming waterfall slipped past the trees and crashed below, somewhere in the mist rushing back up.

It was the kind of thing where i couldn't actually hear him talking as we got closer.

Gazing into the blue clear honest sky i saw a black line, lazing along the currents he was finding up there. Up and down and side to side and back again the hawk hung in the air, letting anyone watch.

I took my eyes back to the water, memorized like we all are at its movement and after a few minutes, satisfied i let them rise again to see if the hawk was still around.

that is, until he met me midway instead.

its not often you get to look a large bird of prey in the eyes, as he scans the earth below, but there he was. soaring at my side. no, not near my shoulder but close enough where i just might have been able to touch those shimmery wings if i outstretched my fingers to their very tips and hoped a little extra. being that high up, i was in his world more than he mine.

the ground froze me to it, as if to prevent me from disturbing this bird. but i stared. completely humbled. it was like seeing a puppet on a string, hanging, perfect in the sky. except there was nothing keeping it up. the wind whipped under his belly and over his wings. light and clear as the air he was in.

and in an instant, as if spooked by my wonder, he dove and was gone.

gone at least from sight, but there is a big black hawk i still think of that flies in the cascades.