Soar

A hot morning wind thins the big ash. In wetter times, it takes the first frost to loosen its leaves. The first frost seems a long way off -- not because it isn't time -- yet how they fly.

By afternoon the wind picks up, leaves fill the air as high as we can see with our glasses, flying ahead of the cloud edge.

Leaves and hawks in migration, riding the southwest wind to soar along the mountain ridges.

Feet firmly on the cracked ground, we look deep into the sky and feel the lift.

copyright 2010 J. O'Brien