DEATH DOUSED

The hawk perched on a blackened limb, surveying the burnt-out forest landscape, its piercing eyes searching for some small animal that would indicate a possible meal.  Nothing moved.  Obviously there would be no sustenance here, and so, slowly spreading its wings, the hawk soared off toward more promising territories.  A slight wind stirred up some of the ash on the ground, and from a distance could be heard a cracking sound as a small limb snapped off and fell to the ground.  Since the wildfire, all was dull gray and black, a lifeless scene that stretched monotonously toward the horizon where it was matched by the dark clouds that had gathered overhead today.  A drop of rain fell into the ash, and then another and another.  Soon there were rivulets of gray water running in various directions, exposing some of the earth beneath.  And if the hawk had still been perched on the branch, something below might have caught its attention – a tiny green seedling, just poking through the soil and now exposed as some of the ash floated away.   Death had been doused with the power of life.