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… a hawk with a very big wingspan.

I was walking alone through the neighborhood when this piercing cry broke the rainy-day silence.

Looked up to catch a hawk, riding the thermals, crying as if his life depended on it.

Grateful to see a hawk while walking uphill on a gloomy day.

Grateful to hear that shriek — chills and all — and watch the hunt, in all its primal elegance, from far below.

And grateful not to be the hunted!

living in gratitudeĀ©

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