It’s the close of another Sunday. The sky’s bright blue color and has begun the
decent into shades of evening navy, which will evolve into the inky blackness
of night.
On the back patio of Dogwood, I find my trusty rocking chair
and enjoy a quiet smoke alone. A smooth
breeze flows thru the trees around me, causing a hypnotic sway which eases me
into a relaxed state of mind.
The light is fading, ever so slowly, so sweetly, and the
creatures in the woods that surround our new home pick up their evening song. It will build to a crescendo as the sun slips
past the horizon, sending their music out over the night air with a strength that
would make any AM radio station jealous.
It’s quite a little orchestra I have playing around me. The
frogs in the nearby pond lay the ground work of the bass and drums. A thousand crickets’ play a slivery sound
layer of stings overtop of the booming frogs. The breeze whispers through the
branches overhead, creating a light yet potent sound of rustling and scrapes
that complement the other elements already in the air.
Suddenly, and unexpectedly, the twill sound of tonight’s
solo artist bursts forth over top the heavy orchestral tune. I turn to see a little gray bird sitting just
inside the lip of the concrete barbeque.
Later I discover that she has built her nest inside the cone of the
chimney, and has laid her eggs.
She is soon to be a mother.
But tonight, she is a star.
Her song is sad, somewhat mournful. I wonder what could possibly make one of the
Lord’s most beautiful creations so sad. But then I remember it’s just the
opening of her song.
The notes begin low, but as the arrangement progresses, she
sings from her heart. The notes dance in the air, becoming more and more
energized and happy. Soon she is chirping at the top of her lungs. It is her song
of celebration. She is thanking her
creator for another sweet day on the Earth, for her home and her soon to be
born babes that will complete her existence.
The concert goes on for more than half an hour. But as the
spot light of the fading sun exits, the song begins to lose its volume, and it
too slowly fades into the darkness.
As the stars begin to twinkle overhead, the orchestra loses
interest in its own tune. The music of
nature separates, and becomes simply noises of the night. The solo artist takes
her bow, and retreats back to her dressing room in the chimney of the
barbeque. Suddenly, I am alone again,
and the dark velvet of night makes me drowsy.
The curtain of night has fallen over the stage, and this evening’s
performance has come to a close. Along with it, the day has finished too.
So like the musicians who have entertained me, I pull myself
from my front row seat, and sleepily move toward the door.
