Poetry Of Spirit And Light: Great Mysteries

I awake to Cooper’s nervous bark at the back door. A peek out the window reveals nothing out of the ordinary. Several robins on the lawn and one looking for the first rays of sunlight among pear tree branches are Cooper’s tormentors. My eyes suffer the brilliant sunlight pouring from the eastern horizon. My heart sees blue skies waiting to reach into my soul. Cooper returns to bedside and opens the windows to his soul. His eyes implore his human to exploits on the prairie. I cannot deny his urges, they mirror mine. Within twenty minutes we’re trail running in the wilds of New Mexico.

Thirty-seven degrees and brisk southerly winds trail our initial advance down a dusty ranch road. As Cooper catches up from a trail marking endeavor, he rips past me engulfed in a cloud of wind-driven dust. The four-fold beat of his toe nails hitting the hardpan reminds me of a wild horse galloping across the prairie. He disappears in the prairie grasses.

For a moment an owl flight feather catches my attention. Native Americans would tells me it’s a message about the unseen side of life, of otherworldly realities. Feathers from owls carry messages of change and transition. A feather also evokes a sense of mystery, wonder, and scientific curiosity. I secure it to my hat band, turn towards the sun, and continue down a game trail.

My thoughts remain fixed on the feather until I feel a shift in atmospheric conditions. A glance at the sky reveals clouds with a buttermilk texture moving in a northwesterly direction. Almost instantaneously blue skies turn a milky white. A weather change looms on the western horizon. While I wax poetic about the sky, a commercial jet out of Albuquerque NM slashes a distinct furrow through the cloud mass. I have never witnessed such a phenomenon. The mystical aspect of the drama across the skies heightens, when the clouds seem to respond by unleashing furious whorls after the cocky, silver-winged intruder.

We return home expeditiously to avoid chocking dust clouds. The sun still lingers and we take a short respite in the shelter of back yard trees. Puddles of water left by early morning sprinklers encourage my morning jaunt towards understanding the great mysteries of our universe. I lose all sense of place and time. The tenuous reflection of a tree in a water puddle is for the moment the center of my universe.

© Ilija Lukić 2012