On a walk the other day I saw a robin perfectly posed, a worm in its mouth. It was showing me its best side, with the worm in profile, and I thought about the great battle for sustenance, how it dominates.
Even in the suburbs, hawks circle their prey, crows haggle over carrion and squirrels horde their acorns.
We think we are immune, but of course we are not.
Our houses are empty from dawn to dusk, our children grow up in an instant —and all the while we are driven, too. The great battle for sustenance consumes, subsumes us all.