Lark

Lazily, I gaze out of the window with a somewhat glazed look.  I don't know what I'm waiting for.  I don't know why I'm waiting.  I just know that I'm not ready yet.  Something catches my eye: a lark alighting briefly on a branch.  Then it's gone again.  For some inexplicable reason, I wish it would come back.  It does.  Funny.  Maybe something is out there listening in on our thoughts.

I look at the lark's shimmering body, its fur so perfectly sleek and I envy it.  It almost seems to glow.  I'm being ridiculous.  Still.  I open the window and music fills the room.  The lark is singing and the song is redemption, hope, full of life.  I want it never to end that I might live forever in the thrall of that voice.  When the final trill expires and the lark flies away, I lower my eyes, saddened momentarily by its absence, and close the window.  But something has changed.  I am ready.