A few days back mid-winter’s oppression broke for a day or so. Snow melted. Birds sang. Hearing a bird singing and trilling a song carried across warm air had a way of lifting even my darkest thoughts.
Clear high notes aflutter in the heavens, at least for me, cleansed all corners of my soul from winter depression. The break did not last long. Snow has returned and chill air remains. Still, I am holding that memory of that aural joy close to get me through the waning weeks of this season away from the sun.
In a bird’s song I became part of creation, I was a thread in the divine world. Joy lived if only for a moment.
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