One moment out of your existence which marked the end of what you once were, while welcoming that which you were to become. What were you in the midst? Nature's clock sluggishly ticked in accord with yours 'till you instinctively chiseled through your insular crib. Peaking and peering into this strange new world, you inhale fully forging ahead. Virginal eyes view the cottony white fluff of floating clouds that block the bright blue topaz sky. Now, fully frocked in Saffron, frolicking with your flock and fluttering your outstretched wings in Spring's refreshing showers.
The Dogwood's white over-ripe fragrant filled blooms entice you to perch for a short rest, though fidgeting nervously and flitting while lit. I daily long to listen to you faithful greeting among the shelter of the tangled maze of twisted branches. Eager each morn to listen while you sing your delightful tune in harmony with your choir who all chime in. I count the hours once you've departed until you again return to chirp your happy sweet serenade. Indeed, I find myself ever enraptured enthusiastically each early morning, such that I lose total track of full moments in my waking time. Only emerging from my subtle trance-like state when you dart off to join your fully fledged brood.
I love all these feathered friends that gather through the distinct southern seasons. Those curious lil black capped chickadees for they both dainty and dandy in appearance and charming to cleave their mate life. And my eyes are on the Sparrows whose brood so plump they be. Many mockingbirds mimic tones, but much meaner, I concede. Behold the bonny Bluebird's captivating colors. This rust tinged thrush sings it's truest tones before darting between the lavish allure of leaves. My bashful Indigo Bunting, oh what a prize to the eye, though both a scarce and skittish subject to survey. And captivated by the crisp colored Cardinals. The scarlet males chests puffed up with pride and be they masked in a drape so dark. Their Amber-orange beaks that peck the pods of their favorite cherried berries in the cold. But I count on you sweet sun-kissed finch to help thaw winter's harsh edge of stiff sluggish wounds.
Mine eye is drawn toward you as I wipe my sleepy early morning eyes and sip my steaming Joe. Perked awake and refreshed by your dazzling spirit in the way only nature can do. Let me absorb the unfurling tulips and daffodils which cast Spring's first signs of colorful blooming life and let me not be blind to God's handiwork lest he strip away my sight.
