One of my favorite teachers.
The first study, to figure if I could even spell the word Grateful with pen drawn feathers.
Reminding me to go searching for the sound. To chase after the ever elusive muse.
The pen study.
To not be afraid to fail, or fall flat on my face.
The pencil hawk laid out with the letters and all.
To find the beauty in tragedy, and the strength to continue through.
The bird as it flies from out of the gates of my imagination.
To laugh my past away, and to make it one more day.