Every morning on awakening my first task is to let Jake out of his crate and leash him up for a pee and poop walk. It's a ritual. These winter days have been unusually cold in Southern California, requiring a hat, a scarf and a jacket to keep warm. Then out the front door of our cottage and down the few steps to the street.
This morning as I left the house I heard a call that sounded, at first, quite un-bird like, high and squeaky, like a child's toy. Then I realized that it had to be a hawk and, looking around, I spotted him (her?) at the rather ragged top of the tall pine tree across the way, motionless, keeping a watchful eye on the nest of small streets that make up our little community.
It's New Year's Day. Looking up at this magnificent work of nature, a rare sighting on our street, I chose to see this sentinel as an omen, a good omen, for the year ahead. And a blessing of a kind, a gift to welcome whatever lies ahead. I very much want America to wake up, to come to its senses, to restore the union it has already shredded and risks squandering decisively this very year. And realize, sadly, that I may not get the outcome that I wish for.
So let's hope the sentinel that greeted me this morning will prove the good omen that I'm hoping for. I wish America, my adopted country, a happy, prosperous, and peaceful year to come, a respite from disease and discord, and the discovery of a renewed compassion at its heart.
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