Fly Like an Eagle 1976
Last weekend I was out in the back yard getting it ready for winter. Putting some things away, and getting ready for the snow. I filled up the bird feeder and was thinking of the last conversation I had with my brother Chris on the phone. We were talking, and there was this loud nonstop symphony of birds in the background. This was some major squawking! And it was like non stop. Chris was out on his porch, his favorite place to be, surrounded by his birds. He has a lot of birds.
I remember growing up in Sherwood, Chris mowed lawns for the neighbors, and he had several accounts. One of them was the Thompson’s who lived down the street. They were an older couple with no children. The Thompson’s had an enclosed back porch and out on it Mr. Thompson had several birds. Parrots, cockatoos, finches, you name it. He was the neighborhood bird man, and all the kids would come over to his house to see them. When ever the couple went out of town, Chris would take care of their birds. He loved it. Chris gave me some of those lawn mowing accounts when he got older and took a job at Cock Robin, an ice cream store down the road. That’s right, ‘Cock Robin’. Square ice cream. Later he got me a job there too. I wasn’t as responsible, and didn’t do as good a job as my brother, but he still looked out for me.
While filling that bird feeder, a thought popped in my head. It occurred to me that if Chris wanted to check up on me, you know the way they say, “he’s watching over you” this is how he would do it. Through the eyes of all the birds that are over head, and all around us. He might fly right up to this feeder and look right at me. Chris loved nature and the outdoors. He loved wildlife and birds. Why wouldn’t he come back as one? Any one he wants, because he can go anywhere and everywhere, anytime he wants now. Last week, Chris didn’t die, he took flight. And I know how to spot him, because he is in the birds. He is the King of birds.
He is the Eagle.
Book Of Dreams 1977