Bird Song

I can hear the birds singing outside my window; their soft melody drifts over the warm breeze like the notes of a single flute in an orchestra. The notes are clear and piercing and sweet to be heard. They sing the song that no human knows, the quiet melody of nature. There are many different bird calls, as many different notes. The soft chirp, the whistle, the rapping sound of the quick beat. I can hear each note in the birds' songs, each little bird has its own tune, soft and small. It's hard to hear the different notes; the birds carry their song with them as they flit over the tree branches and far away through the sky. The sound grows ever fainter till it can hardly be heard at all. Only the faintest fluted note over a mile away, carried over the land by the faithful wind, bring the birds' song back to me. The music of the birds is the music of the earth; it feeds the soul.

See the birds of the sky, that they don't sow, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; your heavenly Father feeds them. Aren't you of much more value than they?   Matthew 6:26


Photo Credit: Ric McArthur