He’s setting up a tee shot when I hear this quiet flutter off to my right. I figure Charlie has this shot covered, so I turn to look. There. In the tree. Perched on a branch as though he owns it is a sparrow, burbling and fluffling his feathers.
I can’t tear my eyes away (sorry, Charlie). Because I’m suddenly envious of that bird. That tiny, breathing creature who is oblivious to the onslaught of media, the slings of politicians, the calls to hate this, to stop that, to follow blindly, to refuse common courtesy, to spew vitriol everywhere.
I’m grateful for the reminder from this tiny creature to remember the quiet wonders life offers, even in the midst of headache and heartache, fear and loathing. There is another way. I pray we find it.
So, here’s to all those tiny, wonderful creatures who live so well in the moment, who sing and burble happily on dewy summer days, especially as July prepares to slip away into August. I am grateful that this wee sparrow graced the tree beside the golf cart when I was there to see.