I looked up, like i always do.
Above this country’s fecundity and wild beauty, came soaring out from a northerly mountain mist seven American Swallow-tailed Kites, one by one. Then a squadron of maybe two-hundred Costa Rican Swifts came into focus within the kettle of kites.
My waning heart watched as the birds, not a wing beating, were now lifted higher by invisible sunny thermals as the loose formation headed due southwest for parts unknown.
The feathered teachers remind me, once again, how powerful is the faith of the innocent and free.
It is an honor to breath in God’s complicated simplicity – all I had to do was stand still, and see, not merely look.
May your coming days be engulfed with soul melts of momentary joy, while your nightly dreams whisper the secrets to thine own self be true. Remember to look up?