Coasting down the steep hill near my house, bare grey tree trunks swishing by in a blur against the snow covered ground. As the car swings around a corner, the forest gives way to an open field that slopes steeply down to the creak, a wide open expanse of blue grey white snow mirroring the monotonous low grey sky. A single large black bird hangs suspended over the open expanse, below the level of my car. The quality of evening light obscures all details, casts no shadows, this bird is a moving silhouette, its stark blackness standing out from the surrounding fuzzy grey world. Three wing beats, a dip to one side and it glides away, blending into the grey trees at the bottom of the hill along the creek edge. I too can glide away over the fields, fly into eternity, with beating wings, beating hearts, and raucous call from the wild spaces in my soul.