It was a warm autumn afternoon.
Everything basked in a glorious golden pause.
The cherry tree in the front yard was naked for the season now,
yet looked more alive than during a luscious spring.
The black feathered gentlemen and their escorts,
I'm guessing around fifty of them,
certainly provided an eclectic buzz. But that wasn't it.
It wasn't the 70s orangey filter on everything either,
nor was it the absence of those metal driving machines.
No, it was none of the sound or the visual.
It was more of the feeling.
I knew I was witnessing something
It may have been the profoundly simple gift
of nothing and everything at the same time.