When Robins Fly

I have always felt that nothing occurs by itself . It is for that reason that whenever anything happens to/around me , good or bad , I stand and take a careful look . It keeps my perspective balanced . If memories are being made , and they always are , I want them to be as full as full can be . And as real as real can be .

As always , in preparation for the sun , the birds gather on trees and wires to face east just as the first hint of light appears on the horizon. How can one describe that moment? Symphony warm up? Cacophony? Racket? You have heard it . The excitement . "Get up ! Get ready ! The sun is coming ! " And I did join the gathering this morning when the first crow called the birds to assemble .

Birds of all ilk and age perch in the semi-darkness lending their voices to the occasion . I personally am acquainted with at least two new voices in the unruly choir .

At the precise moment that the sun appears , they all stop . There is no sound from them . It feels so quiet that I can almost hear the leaves and flowers twist toward the sun . Is it imagination and wishful thinking ? My logical brain says all moving things make a sound .

The light reveals what is old and what is new . Birds everywhere performing mornings ablutions in the warming sun until their stomachs send them forth into the day . Quiet personal messages between family members in coos , cheeps and tweets .

Grown grasshoppers and dragonflies soaking up the heat of flexibility .

Heavy dew on the grass now that August is well established .

Old blooms fading and new ones opening themselves fully to the sun.

And a young maple among the cedars is changed by that sun's power this summer during the drought . Its beautiful red reminds me that a big change is coming soon .

 As the heat diminishes and the days shorten...before frost touches too deeply...the robins will gather one morning , on the back acre , to sweep the browning grass for remnants of insect clouds and retreating worms .

The group of twenty or more , young and old , will be gone the next morning . Not a one to be found . The only trace will be the abandoned nests -like the one outside my computer window .

And I know that as February climaxes , a single male robin will drop by that nest and begin renovations for the next family and new fledglings .

I am privileged to make memories here .


Check out 'August Day Song' by mardrow in the Video Bar . She catches the essence of August better than I .