The Raven Feather - pencil drawing 2003
On my walk this morning I stooped to pick up treasure. It was a perfect raven feather, left behind by a winged guardian in my canyon. One of many feathers I have found throughout the years, but this particular one was magic. It caught my eye because it glowed as shiny black ore, an Apache tear upon the red earth. I reached for it and it jumped into my hand as a puff of wind lifted it to embrace me.
Ravens fly across my sky quite regularly....they land on the large dead tree next to my house. At one time there were 30-40 raven holding court, watching in that tree...waiting, what for I know not ...maybe they were "waiting for a dead man's shoes" or maybe just "waiting in the wings"? They were all quite patient, these custodians of the ravine,...only one venturing out occasionally to patrol the scene while allowing a current to carry him on unseen cushions of air.
I too am presently "playing a waiting game". Yet, I am holding my breath, hoping I am not "an accident waiting to happen". I am wanting to experience "the moment everyone is waiting for". At times, I "feel like a penny waiting for change", the ravens have taught me that. In order to stay ahead of this "game" I must bide my time. As the saying goes, "all good things come to those who wait".
So, the raven left me a gift this morning...the treasure I found was not the feather, but an endowment of insight that I must continue to be patient, composed, persistent, yet restrained for a time.
I can do that. I must. It is my future.
