Quiet

It’s three o’clock in the morning, and four, a time of peace up here in the sky. Pelicans will arrive soon, seagulls, cormorants, egrets and others, splashing and flapping, fishing for their breakfast, but at the dark moment it’s peace, all quiet. 

Birds don’t hate other birds, far as I can tell, I don’t know that different species understand each other, but where a few gather, others circle and splash down. They may steal fish from each other’s mouths, but I’ve never seen one sea bird attack another with vicious intent. 

Why do we hate? Next time, if I get to choose, I’m being a pelican. An osprey. Not a human, never again.

Five o'clock in the morning, soon six, a place and time of peace.

Six o'clock, and seven.