At dawn a chorus of birds gathers at the Cherry Laurel Hedge Church two doors down. They invite in the day with melodic trills serenading the neighborhood. The air reverberates with their chitter-chatter songs of joy.
Only recently have I stopped to listen to their morning melodies. In fact, I didn’t really notice them before. Now, I set my alarm to wake in time to listen in.
As I heed their birdcall, I can’t help wondering what they’re saying. I imagine this pre-dawn ritual an offering to God, melodious prayers sung from branches, grateful for another day, grateful to have braved the night, grateful for emergent light.
Just today, in the pre-dawn darkened sky, I cracked the window from my bed and heard faint falsettos, warbles and chirps. I leaned my body towards the cold air, still half in the dream world, kept my eyes closed and listened.
Listened for the ritual of wonder.
Listened for the feeling of reverence.
Listened for the warmth of gratitude circulating from within.