Purposes

The Sun and the Skylark

What purpose have you said the sun to the skylark — To stir the sleeper

What purpose have you said the skylark to the sun — To steer the seeker

Many of my Wolfkus alight (fully fledged) during my early morning walks. They percolate up through a relatively tranquil mind (normally pleasantly occupied with following the gulls’ or the ospreys’ flight or the crashing waves as they approach, approach, rise, rise, froth, froth into sandy crashes — all for my benefit it seems; I am, after all usually the only one watching, and if anything, nature does knows how to put on a show). This pair of Wolfkus are no exception, they simply knocked on my door and presented themselves, smiling and turning this way and that so I could inspect and admire them, and I did.

I walk five miles a day. About three point seven miles in the morning and about one point three miles in the afternoon, for a most days daily dose of five miles; yes, I know, a little anal (and proud of it).

This one morning I set out pre-dawn, constellations embroidering the dark morning sky (especially Orion, huge and imperial to the south) as I trod my customary route along the streets that led me to the ocean, and then along the shore-bound road heading north.

About a mile or so along my route, to my right as I head north, lies a large, wild meadow — bordering on bog, especially during the rains — and this still dark morning, to my surprise and delight as I walked past it, I could hear the brilliant chatter of early risers, what sounded like a very busy bird-café; all clamoring for service or to be heard.

I stop and look and marvel. I marvel because there are no skylarks in my town, there are no skylarks in my county or state or even country. Yet, here they are, a small village of them, chat-chat-chatting away waking all the world up with their chirp-chirp-chirping.

Then the sun slowly bubbled up into the eastern sky. She heard the busy birds and looked around and then down and then saw them.

Who’s making the ruckus, she said.

We are, said the skylarks.

So far away from home, said the sun.

We are, said the skylarks.

Why, said the sun.

To stir the sleeper, said the skylarks.

That’s my job, said the sun.

We mean no offense, said the skylarks.

You can have my job, if you want it, said the sun, now seeing nature yawn and stretch all around the little skylark café. You seem good at it, added the sun.

We are good at it, said the skylarks.

You want the job then, to wake things up, said the sun.

Sure, said the skylarks, but what will you do then.

I will steer the seeker, said the sun.

Fair enough said the small birds and resumed their chirp-chirp-chirping while the sun resumed her rise-rise-rising.

© Wolfstuff