From this primordial cauldron, sulfur and nitrogen

compounds fume, ghost-like, out into the ether. Here is

where stars are born. And stars die. Here, a lizard is apt

to check you out, up and down, as fast as a rattle snake

can rattle. Here is also where the trickster coyote

crosses my path. No matter how congested Los Angeles

becomes, the coyote finds me. And just yesterday, 9 in the

morning, driving on the Valley side, passing Benedict

Canyon in my car, an unusually large doe comes galloping

into my peripheral vision. She charges head-on for my

car’s front bumper. Two seconds before impact, she

freezes, cocks her head from side to side, and then

stares at me with an unmistakable attitude; a sense of

humor. Later in the day, a butterfly of uncommon earthly

hues, glides into my garden, circling twice before

resting on top of Alex’s head. I tip my gaze skyward just

in time to catch two mischievous hummingbirds hover above

them, just a moment, then returning to their frenetic game

of tag. I rake the driveway free of the purple jacaranda

blooms while the cat purrs upturned, side to side with my

dogs, all three innocents hypnotized by the spring sun.

Finally, just as I am thinking I've seen it all for one

day, a hawk comes charging from the heavens into the

avocado tree and lunges at a flock of doves cooing

blissfully out on a limb. Feathers come raining down upon

our heads. The hawk seems stunned, as it dawns upon him,

and us, all the doves have gotten away.

Copyright:

Scott Utley
August 5, 2007