Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Autumn in the park

25 October 2011

I stood listening after crossing the northerly footbridge in Naylor’s Run Park. A woodpecker was nearby. I knew that unusual chirp, high pitched, watery—it was coming from two possible trees, both on my side of the park road, based on the volume. Maybe this would be the day I would see the actual bird, but if I didn’t, I still felt the need to listen. Today was a day for listening—to the wind as it rustled leaves, to the “twt” of cardinals, to the stream’s babble, to the world around me. It simply bore listening, not for any hidden message, not for prophecies, but just for what the music spoke to the soul.

So I stood still, listening. Then I saw the glimpse of the bird—red head striking against a black and white body—hopping up and down branches as it chirped and I watched its movements, now in plain sight. After a few minutes, the bird flew to another tree nearby, as if leading me there, and I watched several more minutes. Then it was time for us both to move on, the bird to a distant tree, and I back home.

But I was given a privilege, a gift, to see this lovely bird usually invisible.

This on a bright, breezy fall day abundant with gift.

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