Falcons on the 66

I’m writing in my journal, on the side of the road on the 66 highway.  The falcons are maybe 20 feet over my head, I can see the feathers on the wing tips constantly moving to catch the air just right, not even, the whole body of this bird, swimming in the wind, motionless one moment, then diving the next, then swooping backwards and up..

the plains stretch out forever on either side of me, i have not gotten to the heart of the natural gas drilling, so the air smells clean, chilled to the core..

Then I realize I am halfway in the road, the cars behind me are revving thier engines…

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