Savor the Little Things

A page from my art journal

The swallows are nesting in the wall above my bed. They come in through the vent holes outside next to the garage and swoop in and out of the tiny holes in the eaves, quick and silent, slicing through the air. Last night we heard a tiny sound and stood on the bed with our ears to the wall, where we heard the peeping of baby birds. I remember last year on the day that the fledglings were ready to fly, the house was suddenly surrounded by swallows, as if they were coming to celebrate this big moment. They came as a community, ready to protect the vulnerable chicks as they leapt from the safety of the nest into their first flight into the outside world. They flew to the branch of a nearby tree and sat there for a while, astounded by their new reality. What impresses me most is how the whole flock of adult birds circled and swooped and brought them food, supporting them until they had the courage to take the next step.

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Because it is Spring

because I have noticed the birds gathering grasses and twigs

the sweet lip of dawn revealing new blooms

trees sprouting leaves like a swarm of wings

because I feel the restless tug of my heart

familiar and insistant, with only a touch of grief

a quiet repressed joy unfurls, a spiraling tendril finding its way

because I have been sleeping for so long

because I have forgotten so much

the sigh of the shore

the soft wide curve of hip and belly

this mind is a fish, a star, a seed, a wild horse

because I remember the sheer joy of movement

the absolute pleasure of stillness

and the precious moment between the two.

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