Our Avian Friends

Little sweetheart, the prettiest little bird alighted at the window this morning, just a couple of feet from my desk, where I was sitting here writing about you. He sang a little song and looked around, turned about, looked at me, before he finally flew off.

I’m so aware of our avian friends, now, my darling girl. There are a couple of spots along the river where I run that they seem to favor. One is just at the edge of the boat basin and a second is along the trail just past the footbridge. I always say, “hi, guys”, as I make my way past them and they lift as one in flight.

Sweet little birds gather in the trees inside the little garden at the rectory I’ve told you about, too. That little brick house where the nuns of Sacred Heart reside. I always stop there when I’m walking by to say our prayer for you, for us, and the sweet little birds flutter overhead and serenade me, often.

Another spot is the little grove of low bushy trees that line the concourse between buildings on the crossover between blocks at 66th and West End. I take the shortcut there on my way to the little church where I attend those Wednesday night candlelight meditation services. The birds swoop in and out of there, too, and there always seem to be a couple of them high up, as high up as can be, having a little chat, answering one another in super special birdcode.

I stop and listen there, too. I’m not in a hurry. I’m never in a hurry anymore, little sweetheart. Only to be with you again. Only when it’s my time. I hope it’s soon. As soon as today.

Meantime, I try my best to listen for you. I try my best to try my best. And our little avian friends seem to know. With all my love forever…