(264 words)

Shortly before 6 a.m., and just before I was about to take my brisk morning constitutional, I walked into my kitchen, and what should I see through my window? A falcon perched on to my balcony. He stayed for quite a while.

Falcon

Falcon on my balcony

OK, OK, I am not going to win any awards for my photo of him or her, but that’s not the point. The point is, shortly before dawn this huge bird, with deep piercing eyes, this large black hooked beak, talons that wrapped around the rim of the balcony, and an enormous wing span landed on my 18th story balcony, high up in the Bronx.

That’s right, you read it here first and correctly. This falcon came to visit me, at my place in “Da Bronx, New York, Da Big Apple, USA, Da planet earth.”

I was awed by the falcon’s majestic beauty, and I thanked God for the opportunity to have this creature before me. Why he flew to my place, I will never know. But I was honored by his presence. I took a picture. Actually I took several.

In the past, when I lived in other apartments, I took pictures of creatures that visited my home. But those pictures were for housing court. Also, to tell you the truth, I was never thrilled when those creatures came visiting, and I never, ever wanted them to return. Let me be clear, even though he or she tore up my flower pots and messed in my hibachi, The Falcon is invited back.

Victoria