I’ve wondered … is it possible that birds have Reserved Parking spots on telephone wires?
On most of my early morning walks, a song sparrow sings from the wire along the street, always at the same spot, early in my route. The sweet notes are especially lovely in the quiet morning air, and I find myself looking forward to just those few seconds of song.
Maybe God parks him there to remind me of something that I am learning.
The thoughts, in a different format this morning:
The sparrow’s song hems our seaside cottage
with cheerful notes,
tireless, from one rosa rugosa to another,
trilling a border of song around our days.
But here in this idyllic spot,
beside murmuring tides and sun-sparkled waters,
I don’t want an ordinary song sparrow.
Give me something more exotic.
A seaside sparrow, for instance —
that’s what I wish our bestower of song to be.
Can’t I have a seaside sparrow?
But he’s a song sparrow, that’s certain;
and when I accept that, then I can hear
the sweetness of the unwavering song–
even when from the forsythia in the corner of the yard
come the soft notes and buzz of the seaside sparrow.