Chicken Little and the canary in the coal mine

We wish we could fly away from troubles. Wings would help. All our angels have them.

And when we need the gift of spirit, there is always a partridge or two in a pear tree. Or humor, Big Bird. Or entertainment, video games by Tony Hawk. We invest a lot in birds.

We share the same energy and light. Mankind is a remarkable combination of bone and feather, colors glazed on by fashion, the trappings of power or other conceits and inside, these little fluttering hearts.

Then there is Chicken Little, jumping up and down because he can’t fly but thinks he sees what is ahead, and nearby, his sober cousin, the canary in the coal mine swaying on a perch.

For a new state capital

Church is a good place for Sunday worship, but to contemplate the miracle of Creation, sometimes all you need to do is take a good walk.

The point of a good walk is obvious to anyone who has taken one. You start in one place and end up in another, even though you return where you started.

Which brings me to Tallahassee, a state capital so full of lobbyists you can’t do business without one handing you a towel when you finish.