“Your heart and my heart are very, very old friends.” -Hafiz

Such Singing in the Wild Branches

It was spring
and I finally heard him
among the first leaves––
then I saw him clutching the limb

in an island of shade
with his red-brown feathers
all trim and neat for the new year.
First, I stood still

and thought of nothing.
Then I began to listen.
Then I was filled with gladness––
and that's when it happened,

when I seemed to float,
to be, myself, a wing or a tree––
and I began to understand
what the bird was saying,

and the sands in the glass
stopped
for a pure white moment
while gravity sprinkled upward

like rain, rising,
and in fact
it became difficult to tell just what it was that was singing––
it was the thrush for sure, but it seemed

not a single thrush, but himself, and all his brothers,
and also the trees around them,
as well as the gliding, long-tailed clouds
in the perfect blue sky–––all of them

were singing.
And, of course, so it seemed,
so was I.
Such soft and solemn and perfect music doesn't last

For more than a few moments.
It's one of those magical places wise people
like to talk about.
One of the things they say about it, that is true,

is that, once you've been there,
you're there forever.
Listen, everyone has a chance.
Is it spring, is it morning?

Are there trees near you,
and does your own soul need comforting?
Quick, then––open the door and fly on your heavy feet; the song
may already be drifting away.
-Mary Oliver

In reading this poem a memory surfaced for me and although it was a few years ago, I will never forget the experience.  I was visiting my family in Vermont. Their home is nestled half way up a steep hill with a few houses dispersed along the hillsdie road. Each morning I would go for a walk to the very top of the hill, down to the bottom and back up again.  I enjoyed the quiet of the morning as all of creation was awakening. On my strolls, I heard the most beautiful songbird whose serenade was of the sweetest refrain. It was an awe moment that was fleeting but the expereince has stayed with me. When I told friends of my songbird experience, various bird names were offered and I listened to their songs on youtube but none compared.

To this day, I sometimes wonder was it really a bird or perhaps a human who created such a beautiful symphony. I guess I will never know but I will be forever grateful.    

For reflection:  Spring is here to greet you. How will you respond?

Liz Sorensen Wessel
Watercolor by ~liz