Two weeks ago, I was sitting in the dentist’s waiting room.  There, I found myself once again looking at a framed picture on the wall.  It shows a split-rail fence with iris and larkspur growing beside it.  On the end of the second rail down, an American gold finch sits eyeing the world around him.  I’ve always enjoyed that scene.

As I sat there, my thoughts strayed.  I began to put myself into the picture.  As I did, appearances began to change . . .

In my mind I was walking along a little-used trail.  At the edge of a meadow, a large rock beneath an oak tree provided a seat to rest my feet as I drank some water.

It was one of those Michigan-perfect days.  Blue skies and a warm gentle breeze set the scene.  Behind me, I could hear a woodpecker at work.  Near my feet, ants went about their urgent business.  How relaxing.

Then, I heard a flutter of wings as a finch found shelter on the near end of the second rail down of the fence.  There she sat not moving, nearly hidden in the shadow.  All was quiet.

I looked up and saw the kestrel as he flew over, his sharp eyes searching for the next meal.  After a short while noises began to return, and the finch flew off on her way.

That’s when they called my name and I stepped out of the dream and back into reality.