I remember pausing. Woodchips rained from above and I've been wondering about the inexplicable messes along the trails I've been walking there past few days, but today, I saw one being created. I raised my eyes and found the logical source that I should have predicted.
A woodpecker, head emblazoned with a red tuft, tore mercilessly into the tree. I've been listening to its knocking for days, but here, now, I finally laid my eyes on the beauty.
Of all the animals of the world, I have often found myself jealous of birds. The freedom of the air, fresh and crisp--it is little wonder to me in humanity's fits of jealous that we taint it so. We may dream of flight, but so long as it remains in our imaginations, we cannot help taint those who in our fallible eyes take it for granted.
And so we grind the beauties of the earth to dust. We take the good and the wondrous, and twist it, taint it. We take what seems to be free and waste it, forgetting until it is too late that everything comes at a price; this price we will pay until the end of our days.