The city from my view.

A pulse on a vibrant Megalopolis.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

The Whirly Birds

They spin over us night and day following the freeway to get where they want to go. Some speed across the valley, but the real big ones, the ones that thump the ground and beat the house with wind from their blades almost always follow the freeway. They cause dread to fall when they cut the air. I really hate them, these war machines that make Millie run for cover as if she was hunted by them. They make me feel so vulnerable and exposed as if they possessed eyes that could peer through cement and send destruction no matter where you tried to hide.

I hate them most when I'm in my garden picking fresh string beans with my panama hat on and the wind chimes competing with the birds who are waiting to pick at the bugs in the pepper plants. They take all joy away and there is nothing to stop them. They go from one military base to the other following the river of cars that stream across the 101 freeway nearby. We are a military country, we have been at war as long as I can remember. One war after another and with each war, better killing machines are added, each more lethal than the last.

When will they come for me?

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