Have you been struck by the sounds of the birds singing into the morning? In the quiet of the early morning I can’t miss them. When I get on with my day I’m not so attentive. Last week in the Gats catching up with the progress of the season, I ‘stayed in one place’ sitting alone beside Carman Lake and Chelsea Creek and even with the sound of the rushing water in the creek I could hear the birds singing. Telling the world they were welcoming spring.
Thanks to friend Jan Falls for sharing the lovely poem, Here, by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer:
Here
Even as the snow was falling,
the birds in the branches
kept singing into morning,
easing their bright notes
into the thin gray spaces
between snowflakes.
There are days, imagine,
when the birds go unheard.
And it isn’t for lack of song—
the single note chirp
of sparrow, the bass of raven,
the chickadee’s hey swee-tee.
Some gifts come only
when we stay in one place,
come only when we are alone,
come only when we stop praying
to be somewhere else and instead
pray to be here.
