A Gift of Robins

The days are getting longer and the morning's birdsong louder. I am returning to myself after months of clouded overwork. Today I saw the most beautiful sight I've seen for quite some time. Dozens of robins flew in and out of the hollies just outside the window, eating berries, perching on bare branches and drinking from the birdbath. I took photos, then put aside the camera and watched for a long time.

I've been praying for the grace of inner silence, to stop the endless videotape of thoughts about what happened yesterday and speculations about what's going to happen tomorrow. The robins, shimmering in the hollies as they fluttered their wings to balance while reaching for berries and flew from branch to branch, brought that silence.

As I continued to contemplate the robins, a bird with a black mask and yellow-tipped tail appeared out of nowhere. A cedar waxwing! I haven't seen one since childhood in Michigan, I think. The red markings on the wings match the holly berries. 

At work at the church this fall and early winter, I became lost in administration and words. Paper words, electronic words. For months, I failed even to fill the feeder outside my office window. I also failed to feed myself, with time in nature and the garden, time in stillness and observation of the life around me. But the days are getting longer,  and I am returning to the feast.