And God opened His hands and the airs were filled with beauty and songs... songs in the wings of mourning doves, and songs in the yellow throat of the Western Tanager. And on the tree branches, music in the leaves as they bend and lean and swing together with the breezes.
It is magic--a magical season indeed. Sitting here this evening in the porch, eyes closed; just listening to all the voices of the natural world, I felt transported—transported to "that" long ago beginning. What an amazing gift to be able to listen to all voices individually—altogether. Like a symphony; a sharp whistling or whinnying of instruments.... each little winged creature, each organism, insect, living thing delivering a unique message--their own unambiguous resonance... a jingle, a swish, a clatter a song.
And How did God thought of the soft and enchanting oo-wah-hooo, hoo-hoo's like laments in the throats of mourning doves? And the high twirrring in the blackbird's thorax-like music box? Conk-a-reeeeek, Conk-a-reeeeek! How grand His Divine majesty! I marvel and wonder, and love them all, for their songs are all the joys of life, and we in the enchanting spring weather, we listen and dream and hope for a better world.