Crop Of Green

Looking out the window in the morning light, there was a path of glowing yellow sun beaming over a big crop of green. Yes, they were weeds — tall, tall weeds — weeds the bees love to dance around the tiny yellow flowers seeking inferior nectar until something better comes along.

There was the bright salmon orange of the bell-shaped flowers hanging like clumps atop the tall spikes of aloe veras proliferating as aloe veras do — also seeming to dance among the weeds that are the pioneers brave enough to break the hardened sand so other friends may follow. They know how to do everything but grow in rows — happy little things that people kill.

People are the pests.

A heavy dove finds a way to light on the topmost flimsy branch of a hackberry tree, not yet leafed out. Another one joins and directs gazing to a nearby nest — is it theirs? Are they pregnant? Will there be newly hatched chirps soon to feed? Doves have been down on the ground scratching and carefully choosing fine little sticks — the drying stems of small plants that have come and gone and left their debris for the next in line — even though there is a stray and hungry cat nearby. They have to build the nest.

The stray is fed hoping he won’t eat the birds but he eats the birds anyway.

Life goes on fear or not.

They don’t have supermarkets and supply chains except for what humans don’t consume and they don’t need toilet paper.

The world wide web of nature is their store but only what is left by not consuming.

Man is weak. Forage is replaced with stock markets. Soft sofas and entertainment are easier to digest until they kill.

The cats inside curl their noses up because they know if they do they will get something that they might like better. The cat outside eats whatever is put down for him to eat and gobbles it up quickly — lest someone else is in the wings. He made it through one bloody ear but doesn’t favor another. He might not make it through the awful pain that could come with the next event of unwilling sharing.

Only the strong survive — or the rich who can try to buy some strength. They have concierge doctors to patch their bloody ears so that they can avoid the toilet paper hoarders with their ugly coughs and sneezes.

Why is the lotto so successful? Oh, to be able to call for groceries to be delivered. It’s a brave new world that must be braved to make a nest.

The birds are good examples and the weeds that pioneer. They don’t think. They just do.

 

Image credit: Mr. Walsh

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