#6: Watch the birds

I eat breakfast on my porch this morning and watch the birds. I don't know what kind, small and black with sweet tweets. Have you ever noticed how birds let themselves fall? They drop ten feet and then spread out their wings to glide. Drop and glide. Drop and glide. Throwing, in that drop, caution to the wind. They don't drop to catch something, they just play. And they play in pairs. Two birds chase each other, from power lines, over roof tops, swooping and rising, to settle in big trees, or back on the power lines, or on the grass. Then they wait, tweet, listen, just sit like me, slow and observant, watching the morning. We all see the street darken as something passes over the sun. I like how the birds play. They tell me just to be, just to see, that we're all living here together. That even in the rigid city there is space to fly and to romp, to play, to move freely, and to just sit and watch the birds.