I perched myself on the second-floor porch’s balcony rail, looking down on the young violinist who was about to play with the small orchestra. As she raised her bow, I felt an odd sensation in my chest; one of those “something’s about to happen” feelings.
As she began to play a flighty melody, I saw something small flit from the treeline and fly towards me. It was a small lark with bright black eyes. With a jerk of his head he invited me into the air & began swooping over the lawn. I rose into the air on a cushion of sound, raised my arms as if they were wings, and took off after the lark.
We rose and fell with every passage of the music. We rose so high, at one point I nearly touched the perriwinkle sky. I’d never felt so flighty before.
After a few minutes of giddy flight, we landed on the house’s middle dormer to rest. The lark’s dark eye poured mournfully into mine, telling me he had to leave.
He lifted into the summer air, twittered a farewell, and took off into the ever-darkening eastern sky.