I am fascinated by perspectives of time, and here it’s memorably described as a rough-legged hawk, or, when it implodes, a bird keeled over in death.

‘Time still hovers above the tundra like the rough-legged hawk, or collapses altogether like a bird keeled over with a heart attack, leaving the stillness we call death.’

 

Source: Barry Lopez, Arctic Dreams, p. 172

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