This morning as I sat staring at the computer, reflecting on a Sunday morning message, sorting out my thoughts, the dead silence was broken by a sharp call, a dialog among crows cut through my blank page. Then I heard their flapping wings as they launched out the yard, above this house, into the crisp blue sky. Now I was alert, filled with metaphors of sudden awakening. I had to smile. There is a kind of simplicity that waits underneath all the complexity of life and the muddledness of human thought and the vastness of nature in all it's forms. That's why there are so many spiritual stories of the commonplace sound (or sight, touch, taste, scent...) that cuts through everydayness and the search for more than what we are given here, where we are, now.
Crows are a rather mixed bag of tricks in the realm of the collective and cultural psyche. So to give them a prophetic role can actually put you back into shadows and superstition. They can be annoying creatures to gardeners and farmers, hence the birth of scarecrows. Naturalists and biologists tell us they are highly intelligent. I happen to be in an urban area where they like to hangout. So I am friendly. I let them lead me to this perfect poem and the unexpected.
Forest Life, by Joseph Kushnir (website: allpoetry)
Through the pine forest, direction comes by crows whispering wayward secrets.
This morning of crows opened the door to the memory of another poem that sings with the birds of the glory of life, the spiritual wonder of nature, the seasons, and our perception of time, Derrick Walcott's "The Season of Phantasmal Peace". (link below) This day is full of Wonder, of Beauty, of Guidance and yes, Love. Pay attention to God's call. Life is bringing you a gift. (Susan Nettleton)