It’s Sunday Morning and a tiny little big bellied bird is gathering seeds from the ground just outside my window.  Just moving in tiny little circles head bobbing as he pecks and looks pecks and looks.  The small grey dove seems constantly on the watch while going about gathering the necessary food.  Tail feathers twitch fanning the earth’s grainy floor with each revolution.

Over his head upon the branch of a tree hangs a feeder but this brave one has taken the low road so to speak.  Though it probably makes him more vulnerable it is his more natural way of doing things.  The offer of free food above doesn’t seduce him today.  This Sunday morning he is sharpening his survival skills doing what birds do.

He is alone in his pecking.  No others in sight making it unnecessary to arrange an order or share the bounty he has discovered.  Yet seemingly he has set his own invisible boundary not taking more than his share he circles the tiny plot and flies away at his fill.

The only thing this bird was oblivious to was me the watcher from the window or was he?  Perhaps the bird knows me better than I know myself and perched low beneath my feet this Sunday morning to teach me to first look.

I get the message.

Preach on my dove.

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