As he and I watched the sunset on my last evening in North Carolina, he said, “I’m so jealous. I’d be riding a wind current up there, like a hawk, not even flapping my wings.” I stared out at the sky, at the birds, black swatches against the pinkening horizon. I was reminded of The Once and Future King, when Merlin teaches The Wart by allowing him to inhabit animal bodies: ants, geese, fish.
What would it be like to have the strength of imagination, or memory, to know what that would feel like, deep in the marrow of your bones?
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Siena Rose 