pax fragilis
March 13, 2009
I watch through the storm door, smudged with a winter’s worth of cold fingers and faces, as a choleric blue jay alights noisily in my angry/contented tree.
I think he sees me. I step back from the glass.
“War! War!” he cries.
“Come and fight me. I can take the rook. I have defeated hawk and owl.”
“Please dear blue jay, I mean no harm. I am a pacifist. I will not fight you.”
The little dog comes up the walk, ready to come in.
In the violence of the storm door opening, the battle is over.
I am conqueror.
I am indicted.
