His senses were acute. He was the predator. He could feel the sinewy muscle throughout his wings. They bunched, in preparation for flight. He could see his next victim. He felt no animosity towards the thing. It looked small and a little sad. But he was a predator. This is who he was born to be. The focus in his wings was acute to the point of pain. He swooped, releasing the tension and going for the kill. He never missed a target.
He and his kind had been working for centuries to get the world just right. He was excited in a way. He had been working hard to make the world for them. He made mysteries, natural wonders, abundant resources. They asked nothing in return; it was their responsibility. They had lived on Earth for eons. It was simply their time to pass it on. It was selfish to hog one planet for too long. He felt the anticipation one might feel as they prepared a wonderful gift for a good friend.
Later, as he looked back, he wept. His friends had spent so much time on the beautiful planet. The humans had not appreciated it as he thought they would have. The forests they planted were gone. The protective shield around the sky was broken and porous. Surely, they don't realize. Surely they will figure out the wrongness of their ways soon and fix the Earth for the next generation. One hopes...
I am the Earth that created me. I am the sun that warms my face. I am the wind that tickles my skin. I am the grass that caresses my toes. I am the bear in the woods and the deer on the lawn. I swim in the forest and I hike in the sea. I am everywhere and I am nowhere. I am me. I am the Earth.
That last one is little old me. As I looked over it, words started to flow through my mind. I needed a third picture for picture stories and there you have it! I'll just show off my deliriously good looks.
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