So surprised are we at every change in the “world we know,” we fall for it every time:
ignorant and single minded, we are Coyote chasing the Roadrunner, running off cliffs, standing still with unknowing eyes as the boulder falls, flattens us.
We have pursued dreams to our demise, been wiped out by swift descent of misfortune, wake one day to a world that no longer orbits the star that birthed us, the planet that once orbited us no longer visible. Dazed, disoriented, we stumble and yet we go on, until one day the flash of bright red in the sea of green leaves at the front of the neighbor’s house reminds us its name: strawberry. Color returns, gratitude with it. We reach down to pick the fruit that was not meant for us, Coyote nature wakened, we run headlong, chase the sweetness of pursuit, as if we don’t know what’s coming.