There are these moments that we are blessed to observe during which time stands still. We don't hear our ringing telephones or beeping alarms, we don't notice the ticking of the clock, or the grumbling of our bellies. Even the chatter in our minds – of all the things we should be doing and aren't – is silenced. We hear with our hearts and the whole of our being the magic of this world beyond our walls. And we revel in being invited in to witness. We are blessed to simply observe it unfolding, and we are grateful.
The red-winged blackbirds are back.
And if it weren't for my girl, who said, "Mama, what's that noise? Come and listen." and led me to the door, and then said, "They sound like red-winged blackbirds, mama!" we might have missed it all together.
But we didn't.
We saw it, we heard it, we felt it in our souls. And we will never forget it. So many birds, singing that they were home once more. By dark this flock was gone. Scattering, each bird is off to find its own territory in the wetlands around my town. By tomorrow they'll be bickering over who's marsh is who's. But tonight, they sang.
Welcome home, gentlemen. Thanks for the incredible show.