French Pail Birdhouse
Even before dawn, in the treetops, unseen, the Carolina wren and the tufted titmouse are awake, singing beautiful Valentine songs. On sky, high above, the crow joins in with his raspy caw; it's not about perfect pitch, it's simply love, and that is all.
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Every time I say Valentine, my daughter corrects me, insisting it is Valentime.
"Happy Valentine's Day."
"Time."
"Valentine."
"Time."
"Valentine time?"
"Valentime Day."
"I love you all the Valentime."
"I love YOU all the Valentime."
"I love YOU all the Valentime."
it is never about perfect pitch. i can hear the birds welcoming the day - they are so much wiser than we. and your daughter. her too. she is right.
ReplyDeleteYes, the birds, the children; they are the wise ones; we will be wise as well, when we learn to listen.
DeleteI'm not at all sure which I like better, Michael. Your observation or the replay of the conversation with your daughter. Such a delicious problem to have, yes?
ReplyDeleteThis made me smile... Most often, it all comes down to just exactly that, simply love and time.
ReplyDeleteSee, every time someone declares themselves "against Valentine's Day", I think of moments and words like these and decide that we could all use another reminder and reason to love. Beautifully put, as always.
ReplyDeleteI just adore this.
ReplyDeleteAnd you.
So true, smiling.:0)
ReplyDelete