For a second they formed an archway over the highway. A flock of sparrows. Each day I drove by the birds emerged from a field of sunflowers on the right of the road. They would greet the sky together, suspended at their apex for a time so short it couldn't be counted, only to drop down between the thick stems and become hidden. Rising and falling as breaths. A living parabola. Light and graceful like leaves thrown up in a gust.
I took comfort in their reliability. I knew that the sparrows likely made the short journey across the highway several times a day. That didn't matter; they were there whenever I drove past. I looked for them every time, watching the unfettered beauty of their movements for the second that my car drove past, and looking forward the day when I'd drive by next.
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