Outside the 10th floor windows of my office, a hawk soars in circles. Carving wide curves in the air, its wings catch the currents and it floats high above downtown Albany. It doesn’t seem to be looking for anything to eat – no scurrying rodent down below, no nest to raid a little higher – it simply glides through the sky.
Without getting too anthropomorphic, it appears to be exulting in the freedom that being a bird entails.
Behind the glass, behind the blinds, I am not the only one who envies that freedom.
