Bird Lessons
The birds begin their chirpy chatter before dawn breaks. I am reluctant to get out of bed before the harsher wakeup call of my alarm, but they have so much to show and tell. These wise little ones woke up with the knowledge that the sun was on its way, they needed no further alarm. I join them outside for the sunrise.
They remind me to recognize the significance of the earth having turned 360 degrees since just yesterday. No matter how deep the stars were buried under the clouds and no matter how much faith I lacked before drifting off to dream last night, the birds fell asleep knowing that the moon would set, and the sun would rise right on time for their tomorrow, and for every tomorrow after that.
There are birds who quietly perch and observe, bemused by the race. They watch the first-year fledglings frantically chirping that the earth will run out of worms. But there will be plenty when they stop fretting about where the grass is greener and learn to dig a little deeper after the rain.
They know to just take it one twig at a time. To seek out only the things that can be used to fortify a nest. To work diligently on the tasks that make a home strong enough to weather any kind of storm. To slow down and enjoy anything that makes them want to sing. To fly by what is heavy and leave it behind without regret.
Hours after dawn, my alarm finally sings from inside. Today, I will carry only what I can fly with.
