Snow swirls down wildly, vigorously, seriously. Every common thing, every weed and twig and gnarled fence wire, is being transformed into uncommon beauty. Again. And I've almost missed it. I hurry for my camera, wanting to capture something that represents the sense of surprise I feel at what is happening. Such beauty- unsolicited, unexpected, unannounced. The dusk is moving closer, there is almost no time to capture whatever it is I hope to find. I step onto the front porch and I hear them.
I snap a picture. Two. Three. Click, click, click. This is the only sound I hear for a few moments; snow hush surrounds me.
And then I know why I am standing here. Just now. I discover the gift I've almost missed. I cannot capture it. I can only receive it.
robins
are
still
singing.
If I had closed my eyes... if I could not sense the myriad snowflakes falling around me... if I could not feel the chill wind, I would not know from the robinsong that all is not well in their suddenly black and white world. The air is filled with evening song.
The
robins
are
still
singing.