Early this morning,

before the sun had risen
at the edge of the field
where the trees grow tallest,

I saw birds sitting
on the bare branches at the very top—
crows and finch
cardinal and jay

patiently waiting

for the first rays to gently
touch their soft feathered breasts
to warm them
to light them.

It’s as if birds and sun
honor each other
acknowledging this miracle
of a new day.

I wrote this poem first thing this morning not caring if it was any good (well, sort of not caring), but I needed to get down the feeling I had seeing those birds waiting.

At first I was puzzled.

What the heck are those birds doing?

Usually small birds won’t sit near crows (must be a bird thing), but there they were happily ignoring one another, all facing east.

It was when the sun’s rays lit the front of each bird that I understood. They were receiving. That’s all. Just simply receiving the gift the sun was giving.

It seemed to be a natural meditation—to acknowledge the miracle of life, to patiently sit with intent to let the warmth that fills us arise.

All we need to do is wait. To simply receive. To simply give.

Then we, too, can fly off to the miracle of a new day.

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Assistant Editor: Steph Richard

{Photo: via Pixoto}