I don't want to move on this morning.
As babies' mouths open for feed, mother birds are kept busy... and I stay, enthralled amidst the cheeping, flapping wings and mad chaos of the colony.
It reminds me of my family gatherings. Others might see the chaos, hear the kiddies' yelling, laughing; watch mummies scurry about like it was a noisy mess.
Yet to me, our gatherings are poetry; beauty in motion, liquid love being poured out like gold.
I love being present amongst it, sometimes simply observing, other times delving in and helping or hugging. To me, it is a miracle.
And now, at the edge of this feathered tribe, I'm happy and grateful ... as though I too, have been given wings to fly. The crazy love of community working together does that, doesn't it?