Hue move me

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The moisture rich mornings always seem to be the ones that move me, and this morning was both cool and foggy. As I untangled the dogs’ leashes I heard that bird call again- the one that I have not been able to erase from my memory. The sound was so rich, trill and happy- like laughter. I heard it again and again. The dogs were busy sniffing the scents of the trailhead, while my eyes stayed glued to the top of the welcoming tree to see if I could get a glimpse of the bird. It did not take long to realize that the sounds were coming from more than one tree- there was another tree down the flat path which also harbored these melodious birds. There was so much frolicking amidst the leaves as I stood watching and smiling.

Two of them shot out of the tree in sync and flew almost directly overhead. They were green- bright green. Parrots!?!? Wild parrots in Ramona? It had never occurred to me that parrots flew free in the wild. Don’t they belong in pet stores and cages? With clipped wings? I giggled- at myself for being so narrow-minded and silly, and at the little gift that I was just given.

How is it that you can pass something by time and time again, and never really see it?

A bush!

A bush with hues of orange and maroon so rich, that it had extracted my deepest breath. I forgot to breathe. Unprecedented in intensity this indescribable hue of autumn, encapsulated within one mind’s lens, is beauty for the taking.

That feeling is like a bow striking the deepest groan from the strings of a sweetly played cello. Shivers ripple down my spine as my soul quivers. Beauty cannot be owned, but revered.

And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy.
It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth,
But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.

It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear,
But rather an image you see though you close your eyes

and a song you hear though you shut your ears. - Khalil Gibran

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