I write this today while having my morning coffee. I walked out to the deck several time for inspiration. You will understand. Tuesday’s Dark Morning I sit here in with the darkness still closed in on us outside. The birds are starting to sing their morning song of welcome and triumph. They have made it through another night, living in the trees and bushes. Another long dark night is passing. The birds have found refuge, some in the tall red cedars with their dense branches that offer safety from predators, wind and rain. The aromatic smell of the cedar keeps the insects at bay. The paper like bark provides warm comfortable nesting material. The tiny berries can be eaten by man, beast or bird. Though blackness is upon us the birds still sing. They are not prompted to sing by a song promoter offering or threatening the birds. They do not sing for fortune and fame. They may possible sing to impress a mate which is quite understandable and a lesson in itself, but most importantly the birds sing simply because they have a song. They have a song in their little hearts that must be shared. Instead if nodding off again to be awakened by others singing. The Wrens, Mockingbirds, and Finches, to name a few sit high in the giant poplars proclaiming the morning has arrived. The Geese fly over in their formation honking saying, push on, push on, and push on. They do not linger because the flock has a plan. It may be large or small for the day but they are intent is doing their plan. My favorite is the birds that sing simply because they have a song to sing. Music is in their breasts. It has to come out. It can’t be stifled or snuffed without doing a horrible harm. The small birds have joy and sing and sing, filling the landscape with their joy and happiness. They present the songs of the heavens to mankind. They do not worry about whether we are listening or care. It is not their place to be anxious. They just do their task and talent to sing. If we hear it fine, if we allow it to soak in to our souls better, if we become saturated with song to the point it is flowing out of our pores, hands, mouths and feet, well then it has really done its job. The tiny birds have done their work though small and simple they sing. The birds have put all of their heart into it for us to enjoy. You may ask, what is the birds reward for being consistent in their vigilance? When they end their chorus they can fly. If that is not enough the birds fly down to earth and eat all of the worms that have surfaced to hear the music. I supposed it could have a moral. Something about, be a bird not a worm, but that is not my intent. I just say, listen to the birds. It doesn’t cost hardly anything, maybe a bit of time that you would use somewhere else doing something of a slightly different value. All too often a child will listen to the birds and somewhere along the way the sound of singing gets too familiar and is lost for several seasons. Then an awaking happens brought on by the unfairness of life. You walk outside and say. Oh, I hear the birds, where have they been. They continue to sing as if to say. We never left, we have been here all along.
Posted on: Tue, 25 Jun 2013 10:23:00 +0000
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