Fifty-Eight
Clarence glanced up when the screech grew louder. "Where are you, old bird?" He strained to get a good look at the sky. "Too many trees."
He rolled out from under the huge old spruce. "Ouch, I'll be picking needles out of my butt for a long time." From his vantage point on the ground, the tree stretched up forever, touching the sky.
The hawk circled way above. "Hey, bird. What are you doing old fellow?"
The hawk screeched and circled, flying higher and higher, then dove, floating on the wind currents, wings gracefully outstretched, curling at each tip.
"You are magnificent, you old bird."
"And so are you, Clarence."
He rolled onto his hands and knees and looked up into Carol's face.
"What are you doing here?" He pushed himself off the ground, brushing his knees and hand
