The Rabbit and the Kingfisher

He surfaced below me, looking just as startled as I. Furtively slid through the water, to the deep. One last glance thrown to me, from a safe distance. In his beak a single piercing silver flash. He swallows.
I think of the world. The world that I inhabit. For some unknowable reason, he reminded me to see and sense my place. Then I think of the universe and the unimaginable stretch of space and time. I try to fill it with my mind, forcing my presence out to sense my place in this All. My mind returns tired and defeated.
On the way back from my walk, the Rabbit is waiting by the sidewalk. Like yesterday, he lets me get within ten feet. I dare not get closer. With one eye regards me, then sniffs the ground or nibbles. I can't tell, it grows dark. I turn slightly, maybe rabbit etiquette calls for no direct stand-offs, so I mirror his slight side stance. He is the color of dusk. Grey with black and white flecks. I turn farther and cross the street, making a wide circle around him.
The world does not talk to us by television or radio. It talks to us in a language that we knew long before we learned to speak. A friend's loving regard speaks of the deep, as does the surfacing of the Kingfisher. A single flash of silver, though unseen, flashes between us. It lands in my heart, giving me the courage to cry.