If I am aware, each moment is an experience of membership. Unaware, I might not notice the hawk, now circling low outside my window. But if I let it arc into my awareness, the hawk and I are suspended together in a fleeting, fragile moment. When it dives and disappears, I turn to the north. A flock of small birds crests the cypress hedgerow behind the house. The slender green branches at the top nod slightly. The unmown hay below is still.
- Anne Hillman