God is always on the
move. During the winter, he carries bluebirds
in a soft-sided suitcase and takes the birds with him wherever he goes. Early each spring, when the wind is warm
enough and the sun sincere, God unzips the suitcase and releases the bluebirds. The birds shower against the sky like blue
electric sparks. Off they go, pirouetting
atop clouds, alighting in trees, swooping right through barbed wire fences,
hovering over wheatfield stubble, dispersing for another summer.
Yesterday, that girl and I
saw the first bluebird of the season—five of them, actually. They are the most certain sign of spring in
the North Country. Every year, upon
first sight of a bluebird, I am amazed by the vivid color and thrilled to see
them.
We saw our first
bluebirds in stitching flights along the fence of a now golden field.
Last year, I saw my first
bluebird on March 6. In 2015, I spotted
the first bluebird on March 12.
--Mitchell
Hegman
Lovely prose. Reminds me of a song.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Ariel!
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