Birds and Words

Early yesterday afternoon, like a feathered storm, a swarm of bushtits settled briefly in the juniper, then moved to the dahlias, where, in communal glee, they hopped and pecked their way from joint to joint along the branches and stems as if they were attending a fall smorgasbord. Their visit lasted about five of our human earth minutes. Part of it took place within my reach, as I stood motionless and watched from inside the front window. Just outside, the tall dry plant on the west end of the flowerbed seemed to be their favorite. They were not interested in the remaining old blooms, but whatever has collected or is presently dwelling elsewhere in the maze of growth. The birds were a picture of vitality and health. Moving quickly according to their nature, sometimes landing on top of each other, they seemed every bit as much at their leisure. The window being closed, I could not hear the sounds they were making. But the overall effect seemed an expression of abundance and joy, and of hunger satisfied: theirs, mine, physical, spiritual — you choose the words; whatever they are, these or some other, let them serve as emblems of gratitude and freedom.

October 22, 2021

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