They are the birds of winter, the survivors, the sparrows chirping on the rooftops. Even in winter, puffed up against the cold, perching on the stems of the sunflowers and autumn grasses.
They are bold in their audacity, earth-colored in brown and grey. They are with us all winter, cheerful company, even in the cold and snow and grey days. They remind us that we are not alone. We are alive here, now.
Do you crave flowers and brighter colors? Why not go to the orchid show at the Botanical Gardens?
Do you dream of warmer days, walking around the Auto Show, admiring the sporty convertibles?
In the snow and freezing rain, sparrows take shelter in the evergreens, for to be caught in the wet and cold is death for certain. Have you ever seen a dead sparrow? One spring I saw one, after the snow was gone. It lay near the bushes by Walgreens, like it fell in mid-flight, returning to the earth.
What is death to a sparrow, flight? Into the light, the sun of a summer day?
You can read more about the sparrows here.