The magnificent
Phoenix bird, having lived a thousand years and now nearing the time
of its demise and resurrection, having flown in the clear and pure
atmosphere of the mountain heights, feeding on ambrosia and the
finest grains of earth,
saw, with his clear
jeweled eyes, far below, perched upon a stump, an owl with a decaying
rat clutched in his talons.
Having compassion
for the ignoble bird, the Phoenix swooped downward to invite him into
the nobility of his birthright, the mountain heights and spring-fed
streams.
The owl more tightly
grasped his precious, putrid rat and screeched with threatening
scowl.
The Phoenix sadly
curved his flight upward, upward
Until even the owl's
forest was a green patch on the distant low horizon.
Mark Graham 8/30/16
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