Signs

It is three AM. The youngest of the pack is barking, bangs the gate. Had a coyote finally come down the mountain? I go out. A large owl sits on the wire like the note of a bottom scale. Lou used to see this bird when he walked Wingnut. November darkness holds the color. Mind feathers feared, noises alarm. Big birds come in the flyway to the sanctuary of water. This silhouette turns up on the line of sight. Trees look different with such ornaments. The phone poles have signs, compramos oro, they say. The weather turns, cold comes with a call that morning. Since eagles come to my birdbath in winter I am up at three to hear. Like people gone natural on a supernatural voyage, a person at sea seeks a commonplace peace. This day stretche begins with a call from a wife who fears her husband has gone mad, to the sure belief a dog will be gone by evening. Then the news of a swat bust at my son's next door and the paniced call of a wife who fears she cannot protect her husband in old age. I go with a friend to a deposition, pay the bill that must be paid. Once in pursuit of the DayMaker I went natural to the supernatural event. It contradicts expectation. The wife, the dog, the son, the friend, the bill, the youth saved do not go natural in that good night, a diagnosis comes. Because he loves me says the Lord I will rescue him. I will protect him for he acknowledges my name. He will call upon me and I will answer him. I will be with him in trouble. I will deliver him and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation.