Article voiceover
Long ago, on the San Francisco wharf, a tiny bird hovered around me. I opened my hand, offered it to that bird, and laughed when it landed on my palm. "Hey," my white friend said. "Could you be more Indian?" I laughed again because some stereotypes are beautiful. Of course, that bird was just accustomed to tourist fingers and french fries but I felt a sweet loneliness after it flew away. Years later, when all my senses alert to the salt air of Seattle's Elliot Bay, I sometimes lift my open hand to the sky with the hope that something delicate will appear and bless me, bless me, bless me again.
One Feather is All Feathers
The delicacy of nature choosing to land when invited is certainly a blessing, a communion.
Ahh!! Thanks so much!