A New Song

A New Song

I woke up the other day and heard this new song. It seemed a bit familiar, but I could not place it. I don’t know where it was coming from either. So I smiled and listened to it. It was one of the most beautiful songs, I have heard in a long time.

It had a cadence, a flow to it. Its tempo and beat was consistent at times and then at times it veered off in syncopation. The song had a cheerfulness to it and a pleasant repetitive chorus, even without lyrics. I could hear that more than one musician was involved, but I could not make out how many. I didn’t know or recognize the group either. Again, I stayed still and just enjoyed the harmonious music, that seemed to tell a story.

In my mind, I could hear the tale of where one had been for a time, and of his return, maybe their return. There was a perky cheerfulness to the clearly happy song. Another member would chime in and also, express pleasure in where he or she had been. The song was like a welcoming home. I can’t quite explain it.

Too, it seemed like a romantic serenade, one would maybe use to make a woman swoon. It would have clearly mesmerized me if someone had played it for me, when I was courting (dating for you younger generations). I literally could not imagine any female not succumbing to the songs charm. The song spoke of promise, of future generations, of a supportive man wanting a beautiful woman.

There were parts that seemed like responses to this serenade. It seemed to have pleasure expressed in the music. I envisioned a handsome man, in a garden, singing to a beautiful young girl. I could see in my mind the pretty lady, under the comfort and protection of her suitors wing, as they made a life together, a family. I was enraptured by it all.

I had to know where it was coming from, what I was hearing and soaking in for these last few minutes. I wanted to know the ones making this music. So, I jumped out of bed and I looked around. No one was in the bedroom with me. I looked at the beautiful day we were about to have and I went down the stairs to investigate.

The song still wafted through the house, the tune played again, and then I remembered the music and who was playing. I didn’t know the members of the group, though I did know the group’s name. Aviary.

Aviary. Everyone has heard their music. I know they have. I know everyone listens to it and yet so many either ignore it, or just don’t appreciate the beauty in the way it always seems new, whenever you hear it. I think people in general, miss the simple things in life that are magnificent or beautiful. Things we have that we should be grateful for.

We humans often take for granted the little things like, sunshine and its comforting warmth after winter chills. We miss the delicate smell of the new spring flowers as a breeze brings it to us and deposits the fragrance before our noses. We ignore the peaceful transcendence of nature existing beside us, not concerned about us in any fashion. We miss the music of life.

Life has a song, a tune, a harmony. It’s always there, even if we miss it, and we more often than not do miss it. People don’t stop for anything these days to contemplate and admire how much beauty there is in just being.

Anyway, the song spoke to that very thing. As aviary played, I looked around and could not see from where the music came. It might have been from a tree or bush that has not yet burst into its verdancy. But the song was everywhere.

The courtship of males and females, preparing to pair off and create new life, in a spring of renewal. Spring has blossomed and the first returning birds have begun their morning music jam. It’s so magical when, after so many months or morning silence in the air, begins to fill with the menagerie of members of earth’s aviary and the cheerful song they wake us to.

Most of us miss it. Most of us don’t notice its sweetness, its call to our souls to refresh and come alive again, because spring is here and will eventually usher in summer. We miss the simple, the divine, and that is a true shame.

I so love the first time I notice the return of the avians from their winter vacations. I’ve missed their songs, and their presence. I don’t miss the bird poo on my car, the substance that can melt paint, but I do miss the birds. Remember there is no good without a measure of bad. Poo is bad, birdsong good.

Soon, the hummingbirds will be back, my favorite tiny miracles. They will feed at my nectar buffets and flutter around me and the garden all day long.

Bees will come, owing to a healthy and packed garden with every kind of flower enticing them, their buzzing a background music to the birdsong.

Spring is full of magic, life, and wonder. It refreshes the spirit and soothes the weary soul, but only if you allow it to. You have to pause and listen, smell, truly absorb its effects.

It doesn’t last long, however. While technically it lasts three months, the opening of spring feeling, is flighty and brief. If you don’t take the time to savor its delicacies, you will miss it and have to wait until next year. If you do stop to take it all in, even if briefly, the feelings and experience will soak into you and sustain you for the year and longer. Spring renewal and refresh, will soak into your soul and keep you hopeful through the winters of life.

Take a moment this week. Wake up and while you are in bed, be still and just listen. There is a call to life, a calling to enjoy its pleasures, a calling to the soul to expand its limits and yearn for more.

Go, try it. And have a beautiful spring.

#life #writing