moonbeam s training a story for Master Falcon
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‘Grandpa, Grandpa! Look at the bird!’ exclaimed little Tanya. Her grandfather, Michele or simply ‘Pa’ to the children, cocked his head turning his black eyes skyward. Tanya looked upwards and marveled at the snow white hair and snowy white mustache of the world’s most intelligent man – at least in this child’s mind.
‘That’s a falcon, Tanya. They’re like hawks but smaller, quicker, and I think more beautiful. Watch him sail and hunt in the air’. ‘Gee, he’s pretty Pa. Does he have a family?’
‘Not this one, Tanya. I have watched him up here along the bluffs for years. He’s a sad one, that one. He flies to hunt, to eat, but I believe in my heart he is really searching for something.’
‘For what, Pa?’ ‘For his mate, for a falcon to share his life, to wheel through the sky, to cry out in joy!’
‘He can’t find a lady falcon?’ ‘Not yet, but perhaps some day he will’ ‘When, when, Pa?’ a child’s impatient urgency welling up in Tanya’s voice. ‘Maybe in the spring. Maybe we’ll see him with a mate then.’
‘Is he sad, Grandpa?’ ‘Yes, child, he is. I can see it in his flight and sometimes when he rests on the bluff or in the barren trees’.
‘Does he cry? Do falcons cry?’ ‘No,no dear, not most but this falcon is different. He does cry as he searches for a love he has not found. He cries as the wind spirits pull him this way and push him that way and then lift him to the sky’.
‘How do you know he cries, Pa?’ ‘I feel him cry, little one. I have never seen Falcon’s tears but I have seen the sparkle of the sun in his clear, wet eyes and sometimes a sparkling trail behind him if the sun is just right.’
‘If he cries, Pa, what happens to his tears?’ Pa, always the patient teacher said, ‘Follow me, little one.’ Tanya bounded along trying to keep stride with her grandfather. Along the foot of the bluff they went and turned into the coolness of the forest.
‘Come, Tanya. Look’. Pa was pointing ahead where a shaft of morning-misted light came down through the trees. It shown on a low grass covered hillock. Tanya looked closer and saw the small purple flowers sprinkled among the green.
‘They’re beautiful, Pa!’ she said as her hand reached out. ‘Wait, Tanya, don’t…’, but the words were too late. Tanya quickly bent forward and plucked one of the delicate purple blooms. She looked down at the tiny treasure in the palm of her hand as it wilted before her eyes.
‘Oh, Pa! What’s happening? It’s dying! Why?’ Pa pointed up to the tree-framed window of sky above them. Falcon circled in his searching flight.
‘These flowers are Falcon’s tears’, said Pa. Wherever his tears fall to earth, these flowers grow. They belong here. They mark Falcon’s trail of longing. You cannot take them home. They are of the forest and will die away from it. Falcon is the same. He belongs to the wind and to his unfound mate. He is carried by the wind and driven by his search for his love. Without wind and love, he too will die’.
Tanya laid the wilted flower on the hillock, looked up and studied Falcon. ‘Bye, Falcon’, she whispered. She took her grandfather’s hand and walked on into the forest.
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Copyright© 2005 by Strickland83. All rights reserved. I heard about the play from a friend. I had done some acting before, but I was no professional. This was amateur theater. You didn't get paid. Everyone volunteered. It was a lot of fun, though, and you sometimes even got to work with people who really had talent. I drove downtown to the theater one evening. It was a small theater, an old bank building, I think. It was square and built of tan brick, with white globe lights on either side...
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