Myth of the Chickadee–
Oil, ink on 13″ x19″ Paper.
The bird feeder my cause for paused
I watch Chickadees with their black caps, flit about the Lilac tree.
Sparking bright, shattering the darkness of winter gray, in song of a chick- a- dee- dee- dee- rhythm.
The Tiny Birds – explode in energy bursts- clear and renewed my mind.
As if the morning sun streaming through the mist of the mountain trees.
You can feel the fresh optimism swell – their flock- A community take turn eating, as excitement and enthusiasm detonate into flight, making wave like gestures, as they wax and wane- a current filled with lessons in being present, they never missing a beat- landing smoothly on their feet.
Their sound- loud in the rustle and swish of chatter.
Moments surrendered to stillness, drift calm, as I watch, in a spell that swells and reinvigorates this human heart, seeding peaceful possibilities to render healing deep in the soul.
I think to myself; these small creatures teach compassion to a world disjointed with strife.
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