I love a spring morning. As I contemplate the day ahead in those early waking hours, when the light in the room is dim and the gears in my mind are free of wear, I listen to the marvelous chorus coming from outside my window. The joyous sound of life. An exaltation in glorious whistles, chirps and melodies. The earth has assembled a mighty choir of exuberant singers and even though I do not understand the verses...I understand the melody.
It is part of the eternal clockwork that happens with every day. At just the right point, at the exact moment, the first bird begins solo. That bird must be watching...awake and ready, standing by the time clock and ready to punch-in when the color of the night sky turns from black to deep blue and light moves into what is known as nautical dawn.
And I guess the sheer fact that you can't create this sound with a musical instrument made by man, the fact that this joyous sound I hear every morning is more intricate than anything written in music, amazes me and creates a wonder that sets my tone for the day ahead. No matter what the circumstance that happened the day before; no matter if a cat ate their mate, or their home was destroyed, they sing as they did the previous morning. Even if sorrow filled their eyes, you'd never known it when they sing to the skies. They sing as if today is the last day, the last act and needed to be the best performance ever.
Just another gift, unwrapped each morning if we are willing to listen.