|Acrylic on canvas.|
Maybe it's the swampy home, knee-deep in muck and mire. Focused on finding its next meal, recklessly disregarding the place where it plants its feet.
Maybe it's fierce determination in the hunt, its beak precision-carved for the fish it's meant to kill.
Maybe it's a question mark, its slender neck poised to wonder.
Maybe it's aggression, tall and proud. Sleek and ambitious. Ready to make things happen against the odds - alone.
Maybe it's a mother, guarding her nest fiercely from invaders. Hunting fish to bring home to her young with single-minded focus.
Maybe it is solitude and silence. Clarity of mind and proximity to water.
Maybe it's balance, sure-footed on any terrain.
Maybe it's wisdom. Potential. Folded wings perched to spread wide.
Maybe it's a bird. In spring, my children tossing rocks in its direction hoping to catch its attention. Maybe it's time to go home.