A Tree Full of Sparrows

I saw a tree full of sparrows this morning. It was like a Christmas tree but with orange and white-bellied warblers bedazzling the greens. And the sparrows sang and fluttered their wings. Then all of a sudden, they would leap for the air, and it was like an eruption of feathers as one plume after another of birds dove for the neighboring trees. Birds are so fascinating in the way they cluster and fly free. I was ensconced by these sparrows on the ground, in the trees, and in the sky around me.

But as these sparrows took off, more would surface – like an endless tap of fowl was buried deep in the heart of the tree. What a magical sight on this first day of February: a tree full of sparrows. 

And over the pond below, the mist drifted gently. Those plumes of white air just glided across a crystalline water, illuminated in early morning light. What would it feel like? To glide so easily across the surface of a water’s cold, brushing the surface ever so, barely glancing the water’s chill. 

What would it be like

to just drift across a surface?

Knowing you’re so light 

that even the water doesn’t break?