avatarErika Burkhalter

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b0">Perhaps they remember.</p><p id="9429">Probably, they don’t.</p><p id="8f3e">Or maybe they only know, as I did this morning, when I gasped for breath at the summit of canyon and was launched into the gilded oyster sky,</p><p id="6146">that life is like this:</p><p id="6026">A freedom of wing. A breath of blue. And a sudden blinding brightness as we enter or leave this world behind.</p><p id="f55f">I suppose the ducklings saw it too.</p> <figure id="9993"> <div> <div> <img class="ratio" src="http://placehold.it/16x9"> <iframe class="" src="https://cdn.embedly.com/widgets/media.html?src=https%3A%2F%2Fw.soundcloud.com%2Fplayer%2F%3Furl%3Dhttps%253A%252F%252Fapi.soundcloud.com%252Ftracks%252F1145859451%26show_artwork%3Dtrue&amp;display_name=SoundCloud&amp;url=https%3A%2F%2Fsoundcloud.com%2Ferika-burkhalter%2Fa-sudden-blinding-brightness%3Fsi%3Db070c3c8f6864d2fa0380ed1aa3e1a37&amp;image=https%3A%2F%2Fsoundcloud.com%2Fimages%2Ffb_placeholder.png&amp;key=a19fcc184b9711e1b4764040d3dc5c07&amp;type=text%2Fhtml&amp;schema=soundcloud" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="166" width="800"> </div> </div> </figure></iframe></div></div></figure><p id="f509"><i>Erika Burkhalter is a yogi, neurophilosopher, cat-mom, photographer, and lover of travel and nature, spreading her love and amazement for Mother Earth’s glories, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies).</i></p><p id="e708">I hope you enjoyed my photo, poem and musings.</p><p id="0eb4">Some of you might remember about these very crows’ parents building their nest this spring:</p><div id="d60c" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/gathering-twigs-251b86079af1"

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            <h2>Gathering Twigs</h2>
            <div><h3>Baby crows, coming soon</h3></div>
            <div><p>medium.com</p></div>
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    </div><p id="503d">Or you might enjoy reading about Ratri, the goddess of the night:</p><div id="f751" class="link-block">
      <a href="https://readmedium.com/one-night-c30aa4b32317">
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          <div>
            <h2>One Night</h2>
            <div><h3>A full moon poem</h3></div>
            <div><p>medium.com</p></div>
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    </div><p id="f058"><i>Photos and story ©Erika Burkhalter. All rights reserved.</i></p><div id="c2f3" class="link-block">
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            <h2>Join Medium with my referral link — Erika Burkhalter</h2>
            <div><h3>As a Medium member, a portion of your membership fee goes to writers you read, and you get full access to every story…</h3></div>
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Poetry, Nature, Consciousness

A Sudden, Blinding Brightness

A crow poem

“Feathers Sleek with Autumn Light.” Photo ©Erika Burkhalter.

Those baby crows, raised, this spring, amidst a cacophony of cawing and a riot of scaffolding in the pines, are grown.

Their feathers sleek with autumn’s light, they now glide into the sun-warmed vortex of air rising up to heaven,

whatever that is.

It might look different to a crow than it does to you or me.

A freedom of wing. A breath of blue. A sudden blinding brightness.

I might have seen it too — the blind launch into the unknown at the apex of an incline with the sun in my eyes and the dust motes dancing through the fingers of light reaching through the desiccated hay.

In moments like those, you know that the trail goes on, you just have to believe it.

Depending on wind speed and drafting, those crows might pop out of that spiral before they reach the top. Oftentimes, it’s to chase a solitary hawk who’s braved the murder —

that’s what they call them, you know, a gathering of crows, a murder.

I never understood the name until I saw them turn on a red-shouldered raptor.

They once ate the baby ducklings too, those newborn puddles of fluff and fleshy paddles following their mother around in my pool.

But that’s the way of it, I suppose.

Those crows were also babies, and those hawks did stalk their nest.

Perhaps they remember.

Probably, they don’t.

Or maybe they only know, as I did this morning, when I gasped for breath at the summit of canyon and was launched into the gilded oyster sky,

that life is like this:

A freedom of wing. A breath of blue. And a sudden blinding brightness as we enter or leave this world behind.

I suppose the ducklings saw it too.

Erika Burkhalter is a yogi, neurophilosopher, cat-mom, photographer, and lover of travel and nature, spreading her love and amazement for Mother Earth’s glories, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies).

I hope you enjoyed my photo, poem and musings.

Some of you might remember about these very crows’ parents building their nest this spring:

Or you might enjoy reading about Ratri, the goddess of the night:

Photos and story ©Erika Burkhalter. All rights reserved.

Poetry
Nature
Consciousness
Spirituality
Autumn
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