I came to a clearing in the woods, a small sunlit patch of rabbit-bitten blades, over which the blue was struggling through the insatiable leaves. As a branch broke under my foot, there was an explosion of birds, feathery shrieking shrapnel sent flying across the canopy gap. Further up, jets from the nearby airfield scurried across the sky, bushy tails dragging behind them. Jets, surpassing the birds in speed, size, efficiency, capacity...every category but beauty.
Whispered "Why are you migrating, you jealous, straining beasts?"
The birds made sense, but from the humans, no answer. Never any answer.
"Where are you running, great-and-mighty self-escape artists?"
And they fled from my questions, fled faster than the birds as they moved to escape the violence of my errant step.
"Why do you fear me, oh self-made masters? Have you, too, mistaken me for your predator?"
"Am I your predator?"