Slate, rope, egg

slate, rope, egg

A man of dignity. A man of the land. A boy with a question. What is Infinity?

The man pauses.

A few moments pass.

He starts.

“Once every calendar, only once and no more, the Blackbird takes to the highest peak of the Great Rocky Mountains. He sits proudly perched and makes one, perhaps two, passes of his slender beak sharpening it against the summit rock before taking flight to return home.”

The man takes the boy by the shoulder and says, with all the sternness a man his age would have, “when the Great Rockies are level with the plains from the Blackbirds’ pilgrimage…that is Infinity.”