A Small Gathering by Phillip Kirk
It’s that time of year when if you stop talking and start listening, you can hear the birds sing.
Even with the traffic, you can still hear the birds.
What is it that they want to tell you?
They are so frantically trying to communicate their message.
But you just won’t listen.
You just look at them and say, “Dumb birds. They should learn English.”
But if you stop talking for like, five minutes, you’ll start to hear the message.
And therein lies the rub.
Who has five minutes to devote to listening to birds?
Not you. Not me. Not anybody.
So we are where we are…
in a world where our useless babble drowns out the voices of the birds and their real message of the importance of loving and being loved.
I love you.
But you already knew that.
Her Two Cents
Once upon a time, in a far-away, distant land, I lived next-door to an elderly woman who was a avid gardener. From my kitchen window, I could see her every morning, walking and working amongst the blooms and greenery. Occasionally, small birds would alight on her arms and shoulders and chatter would ensue – communication no different than if a neighbor had stuck their head over the hedge or the letter carrier came around with a package to sign for. Simply, friendly conversation. “Nice to see you. How do you do? What about this weather…” Lovely, yes. Yes, love.
An avid, no?
Lovely memory.