Weekend Story-Watching The Winds

Every spring, the birds of the valley raced to the highest peak before sunset.

The sparrows were always first to leave. They burst into the sky, wings beating furiously, darting past one another as though speed alone would win the day.

The cranes waited until the morning mist had lifted. Their wingbeats were slower, steadier. They climbed above the trees and glided whenever they could, conserving their strength.

An eagle remained on a rocky ledge overlooking the valley.

The sparrows circled back, laughing.

“Has the race been canceled?”

The eagle didn’t answer.

As the afternoon sun warmed the cliffs, invisible currents began to rise. The eagle unfolded its wings, gave three deliberate strokes, and simply kept climbing. Soon it was above the cranes. By sunset, it was resting quietly on the highest peak.

The sparrows arrived much later, exhausted.

One of them looked at the eagle and then at the empty sky.

“I never saw you flying.”

The eagle looked out over the valley.

“You were watching my wings. You should have been watching the wind.”