Thoughts from a Tree Stand

The birds sweep in and out like waves against a beach.

All is quiet.

Still.

Than the chickadees decend, brave and loud. First one or two. Then more. Hanging from branches, flitting down to the ferns then back to branches, some so thin the tiny birds appear to be floating.

The titmouse and nuthatches appear like a breeze thru the trees, seemingly following the chickadees in their scavenger hunt for seed. The chirps and twills grow raucous.

The crowd is watched over by a jay, loud, calling out warnings, a guardian of the flock.

Cautious bluebirds and goldfinches follow along, low to the ground, eyes always upward.

Juncos appear, though I’m unsure when they came since they just blend into the crowd.

Noisy woodpeckers sweep through, their hammers going strong, the cadence pushing the crowd forward.

Then all of sudden, the woods are quiet again.

Stillness returns.

I miss Michigan’s woods. A variety in species and age. Oak. Aspen. Maple. White pine. Spruce. Some in groupings, others standing tall and alone. The ancestors lay on the ground, slowly returning to the soil they came from. The overall picture is natural, barely scarred by human hand. The way it should be.

Remember to always Spin the Compass.