A male house finch perched in a winter’s tree, atop the highest whisper thin branch. I could see his puffed up chest glowing red in the waning light of golden hour and I stilled in the moment. His solo song, heavenly and sweet broke the silence—a concert just for me, but then, a female joined him. He continued his song, me an accidental witness, watching the pair until they both took flight into that setting sun. My attempt at prose does it no justice. It was a perfect moment.
Peace.
“He who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.” -Einstein
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