I’m sitting here in the morning, listening to the birds chirping. It’s 7:42 am, and not especially early, but I’m the only human awake, so it feels earlier than it is. The birds and the trickle of water, the remnant crickets from the night, and the early cicadas of the day. The birds are fierce this morning. Birds are unsung. I think that line, that phrase is important. They are undervalued, unrealized beauty. Birds sooth my soul. Birds make me happy. Talking in such platitudes, it’s easy to think I’m writing for a Hallmark car here. But I’m not. Birds create emotional freedom. Ah, there we go, something Hallmark would firmly reject…
(Read about “The Lucky Hawk“)
