The Analog, The Transient

Dear you,

January 14, 2024, Seagrove Beach, Florida.

A fearless raptor visited me as I strolled about today.

Quite a beauty, this one.

A hawk, brown, white dotted feathers, lush, muscular body.

Its visit was brief; I dared come too close and she/he flew away.

And there it is, my humble epiphany for the day: beauty is transient.

I head inside and tune to the local public radio station (yes, some survive).

Smiles! They play the score from The Sound of Music.

Quite a beauty, that one too, available for real, for free, to anyone with an FM radio.

Free, like analog television once was.

Why did we give that up? 

Even pricey digital cable is on its way out, replaced by even pricier streaming.

See yesterday, the NFL streams a major wild card playoff game, severing access to the big all of us, or mostly all.

Quite cynical, this decision.

Quite sad too.

I worry we are losing access to so much artistry, in poetry, in body art, in reportage.

I pout on a perfectly lovely Sunday. Remedy?

Shift focus to the analog, continuous like a heartbeat, continuous at least until it stops.

Shift to the soundtrack filling my silly condo, listen:

"Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens/bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens/

bright geese that fly with the moon on their wings/these are a few of my favorite things.

When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad/

I simply remember my favorite things/and then I don't feel so bad."

My favorite things. Like public radio, televised sports, a fearless hawk.

Very analog.  Very transient.

You made my day, you wonderful (wonder full) transient things.

Gracias.