Listening To the Pelican's Affliction

What has brought him to this cheerful place? Is it curiosity, hunger, or an escape from loneliness? A mild wind from the East caresses the gleaming waves, and he expresses jealousy with deliberate rage; his small nest was destroyed by the wrathful storm of February, vainly, he searched for it through the bushes of wild huckleberry. The mid-spring sunrise is bright-golden and luminous: similar to a brilliant sun that illuminates all in its path; and yet the green-blue pelican ignores it and chooses to mourn his loss, never hoping to find his little ones alive: to survive in such a wilderness, any bird needs to strive or die even when harmony invites to explore new skies. It's Saturday morning, I'm strolling and singing and perched on the Monterey Cypress stretching its branches want to embrace him for solidarity, would he accept or refuse the feeling of empathy? Listening to the pelican's affliction is sensing total despair, something I've felt and carried inside to deepen the wound of a tragic event that provided no minimal healing whatsoever: we were created differently from these fowls with thrilling sound.