Bird calls: "Chirp..." "Cheep..." "Twirl..."

Contemplative Carol

Ever found yourself wandering the trails of your mind? Like a songbird flitting from thought to thought, chalking up choruses in a casual, repeating manner. Today’s tune, a mix of yesterday’s echoes. Have to wonder, don't we? How many cycles it takes to find the repeat button wore thin.

I saw a robin perched upon a recent memory—bright, stopping to ask, "Why do you sit still?" Maybe the question was for me or for the world, asking why it grew still, each branch a word unsaid. Flickered between the realms of chirp and pause, I hear a ngxceptio melody nestled between.

Birds don’t mind the looping nature of a day; they just sing it as it is. Maybe there’s wisdom there, singing along... I could sit here all day. Just listening, really. Well, perhaps also dreaming a bit, imagining wings brushing against clouds. And oh, the colors birds might see!

Once, there was talk of a rhythm to the skies. Heard whispers trailing behind the breeze. Do those whispers account for open skies, too? Each horizon hums a different chapter. Paints a new verse.

Grains of sunrise, streaked across a musical horizon. Choirs of color borne on subtle winds. The robin again—ever patient in its questioning stance. To loop, to pause, is the melody of a daydream, they say.

Drift, if you must. Follow this song enough and you’ll find your own birds collecting pieces of sky as they go. No harm in wandering this loop. In fact, perhaps there's comfort.

So where does the loop end? Maybe it sings on, humming softly. Maybe it’s a question best left unanswered, a birdcall echoing somewhere far off.