I’ve been noticing a crow flying out back the last few days. Yesterday morning, I was sitting at my desk going through emails and noticed the crow land on the patio. It plucked some weeds that were growing between the stones, and flew off. First, I thanked the crow for doing that bit of weeding (I could get used to that kind of help). Then, I wondered if the crow was gathering things to build a nest. Sometime later that morning, I noticed the crow fly into one of the birch trees out back and grab a small twig, then fly off. Surely this crow is building a nest.
I’m not a huge fan of crows, I must confess. I know they play their role in Nature—hold their spot in the food web, etc.—but, no offense to crows, they are nowhere near as sweet as the goldfinches and bluebirds that frequent our feeder.
And yet, when I saw that crow collecting sprigs and twigs, and I thought about it building a nest and mating and how there will soon be baby crows…well, my heart softened.
The work of building home. The work of creating new life. The work of living. We are all getting along in our own ways, aren’t we? Preening our feathers, gathering comforts of home, foraging for nourishment. We do this literally. We do this figuratively.
And when I pause to really think about this, it’s true that my heart softens. My heart softens toward the crow. And then it softens to the rest of life…to our Earth, to each and every person living on this Earth. I whisper a prayer that everyone might have a crow build a nest in his/her yard. Or something close to that. It’s a whispered prayer for softness. Toward each other. Toward our Earth. Toward life.
Do you hear the whisper?
Sending a little love your way, m