Undeniably so...
short ears in long grass
Hello. This post is about Death & Birds.
Just as the Crocuses rose tentatively out of the earth, the Song Thrushes started to sing. Together they announce that time rolls on, and that Spring—while still sleeping—stirs. Daybreak has become jubilant, and the Song Thrush insists I close my eyes to better see the complexity of her call. These dewy mornings, each one an invitation to come to life, to join the throng of beings alive. Of beings born and not yet died—of which, in the long view of history, there are surprisingly few. How fortunate we are, for this brief time, to be among them.