The Friendly,Long-Winged Cranes

Before the end of fall, when the monotuous days become shorter, they, like a sudden storm, come to the barren land crossed by a pristine river; and their massive hoards partially darken the sun's face and their croon isn't that low and dull... The chill in the November air penetrates my shivering bones, to discover that I am visited by the friendly long-wing cranes; and on the flat, weedless land they descend with amazing skill... to confine themselves to meditation and silence: and how can I lament the absence of friends? By the sunrise-lit window I gaze out to the immensity of the dormant plain, barely seeing my wild river, which is swarmed by the friendly and long-winged cranes; and as a shrewd predator, I hide from them to watch what they do and how they cope with their hunger, at least they have water to guarantee their survival through the early winter... Everything that I labored for, I earned with callous, cracked and sun-dried hands; and they work hard to gather their winter's harvest, so that their little once never go hungry in any place! Their six-feet soft wings is the perfect nest to give them shelter and keep them warm, and before hail and snow will turn into a dangerous storm, they'll fly back to where they came from... Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci