I love the view from the 15th-floor window of my office at 55 Fifth. Village rooftops with white-robed men practicing martial arts. Lots of trees, green now in summer. A handsome swath of the Hudson River with its mighty river traffic. Sometimes I see red hawks being beaten up by crows. Bluebottle flies, too high up, take a breather on my windowsill.
Here's the unexpected rara avis that perched on that same windowsill today. He wasn't there long; he just took time enough to do his job, swiftly and neatly.
I held my breath the whole time. Then he straightened his wings, clamped onto the next set of bolts, and was gone.
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3 comments:
Talk about your everyday bravery! I wonder if the height fazes him anymore. I wonder what he's seen through all those dirty-then-clean windows. I wonder if it's cooler up on the 15th-floor window ledge than down on the street, or just as murderously hot. I wonder if hawks hate crows for messing with their reputation. Hmmm.
Lauren T
This is my favorite blog right now, and I wish you'd post more often. Your observations about city life, the writing life, working, daughters, etc., gibes with my own sense of the universe just now. Blessings on your head.
I get that creepy tingly feeling in my feet just thinking about him on your windowsill.
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