I wake to joyous birdsong and listen;
Downy Woodpeckers, Mourning Doves, Northern Cardinals, Song Sparrows, Blue Jays, Tufted Titmouse, House Sparrows, Carolina Wrens, and many more whose names I do not yet know.
The windows are partly open as thunder begins rolling in, the birds quieter for just a few heartbeats, and then, as if an orchestra conductor’s baton raised the tempo, again singing loudly.
Rain begins slowly washing the earth, like adagio, gently swaying with nature’s avian creatures.
Thunder takes less space; birds still, almost in reverence to the might of the quelling noise as drops ping off gutters.
Showers continue to dance from the sky elegantly; the ceiling fan above whirring as a Catbird’s calls join the serenade.
The sky darkens like a silenced light while the feathered fliers seek shelter from the storm.
5: 49 am
A slight chill comes in through the still-open windows, and moody bits of light seep through the squares in their sheer coverings. I pull the sheet and duvet up to my neck and close my eyes.
A long exhale of thunder, then a few further away rumbles; the wind is gone, and the birds return to sing in harmony with the world-washing rain.
I rise and thank nature for the majestic display and the music—the heartbeat of our planet—aware of all who will never experience what I have had in just fifty-one minutes in one morning of this life. ❦