The song of the white throated sparrow

The crystal clear notes
of a white throated sparrow
floated down through the trees today.
And then a mile further up the trail, another.
The first songs to come my way
in the spring forest.

I like winter
when white covers the earth.
I like summer
when the woods are green and warm.
But I love the wild forest
when things are changing.

Now, the first week of spring.
Still, some patches of snow linger
in the shade under the big trees.
The air warms then cools then warms
in the bright sun.
Trees with swollen buds, waiting.
The first birds are back.
Their songs celebrate what is
about to come.

We humans know four seasons.
I wonder how many seasons
the inhabitants of these woods know.
Maybe fifty-two.
Maybe each week is a new season
for those who go about their routine
deep in the woods.

The long, hard winter is over.
New life will soon fill these woods.
A flood of green, bird song, wildflowers.
And the white throated sparrow
sings its song anticipating
the change to come

--Rodrick W. MacIver in this week's Pause for Beauty

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