Wingspan

A Terrible Blow

I was telling my roommate about the dream I woke up with. I only remember the feeling, the connected bliss that greets you when you spent the night conversing with Nature!

Last night, a golden eagle guided me from place to place in Yellowstone, my childhood playground, telling me what it all really means. Of course, I don’t remember what it means but I’m swimming in serenity, still. What a great dream!

Then my roommate asked me, “What is your wingspan?”

“Too long,” I answered, glaring.

“Let’s find out!” he pestered. I can’t resist a caper, even when my vanity’s at stake.

It’s 5’9″. Five, nine!!!!! (I’m… not.)

I’m not a graceful, enigmatic eagle. I’m an ape!

Oo oo!

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