Of a feather

specbirdsThe truest vision of life I know is that bird in the Venerable Bede that flutters from the dark into a lighted  hall, and after a while flutters out again into the dark… It is something — it can be everything — to have found a fellow bird with whom you can sit among the rafters while the drinking and boasting and reciting and fighting go on below… one who will patch your bruises and straighten your ruffled feathers and mourn over your hurts when you fly into something you can’t handle.

Those near-closing lines from the great Wallace Stegner’s Spectator Bird were inscribed on a small scroll for attendees at a wedding to take home and ponder, twenty years ago this afternoon. Good words. To my fellow bird: happy anniversary.

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