Black Birds
On this lovely Sunday morning, I looked from
my bathroom window and also gazed from my kitchen
window, and there they were. Arrested by their number,
they captured my interest and for just a while,
I observed their beauty and coordination.
They flew in, feasted, and flew out and away;
But not before I was soothed by them. So quiet
they were, never annoying, orchestrating a spirit
of symmetry. Surely, they have a plan and purpose,
I mused. Should they be heading further South?
Blackbirds are never disturbing, yet they are here,
in late December, having not flown to the deeper
South. Or will they? I mused. Perhaps this is
South enough and the dixie chill suits them,
or maybe they simply stopped to dine.
Blackbirds. I do not know the details of
what they are all about, nor do I know their
next move or their route. I only know that
today, they spoke to me of calm, peace, and
poise. My day was good, but they made it better.
Blackbirds. On this Sunday before Christmas '24,
I am treated by God. As they feasted, I was favored
with divine moments so void of common noises. This
community has many acres of a peanut crop, but today,
it was upon my one acre that they decided to stop.
Copyright © Curtis Johnson | Year Posted 2024
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