He was an old man, and he lived in the mountains beside a lake. In the summer, the sun would come up and warm his bones, and in the winter the wood from the trees that grew on the mountains did the same. For he had a wood stove, and he laid the wood in carefully on his long porch, so that it would be within easy reach when the snows came.
It is said that one morning he went out and met a bluebird. The bird was sitting on a post, surveying the grass for insects. When he approached, the bird did not fly off. He stopped a few feet away and said, “Good morning.”
The bird hopped down into the grass. It returned to its post with a grasshopper. The man reached toward the bird, and only then did it fly away. But a bond had been formed.
Copyright 2014 George Lowell Tollefson