Birdsong at Eventide

Sister Rose Boyle OP

My window is open.
I listen to the birdsong.
How I wish I could recognize
whose song was whose!
It doesn’t matter.
It is all beautiful,
all the work of the great conductor,
blending all beautiful and harsh sounds,
even those of the raucous crow!
We all have a place.
Everything contributes to this symphony.
Each sound is beyond the ear of man’s critique,
each sound a masterpiece.
It’s strange,
but sometimes, the most insignificant,
the tiniest moment in life,
becomes the most potent,
the deepest source of strength,
the moment colouring one’s whole vision of life,
a foretaste of what cannot yet be,
but which carries you there.

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