Standing Rapt in Awe
Recently, I was standing in the backyard bidding the day adieu, watching hues of soft pink and creamsicle orange take over the warm blue sky. I heard them before I saw them, a noisy chattering of starlings. They flew in low and fast, directly above my head, landing in a mostly bare red maple at the edge of my fence. The glorious cacophony of their impromptu gathering left me breathless. In all the years lived here, practicing my ritual of saying goodnight to Mother Earth, never had I experienced starlings, quite literally, at my back door. I held my breath, watching them, listening to them speak in language known only to them. They were still, yet aflutter, their collective energy an invisible and palpable force moving through the stark limbs of that red maple like a wave. To most people this moment would just appear to be birds in a tree and go largely unnoticed. To me, this was poetry, this was a gift from the Universe, this was a moment to savor, a moment to etch into the deepe...