The seams of life are beautiful

I have been wanted to write about this for some time now. I have witnessed something spectacular. The type of beauty that asks for your full attention; steals for your entire self for just a moment. Waterfalls has often done this for me, but recently I discovered - no recently I noticed - these small black birds, possibly Blackbirds, flying patterns into the sky. They move together in a wave, resting for a moment, then rising back up as a music note would if it were to move along with its song. Each bird flies it own flight, and alone, just a small bird in a field it would be. But together, as an entity of one, these birds are pure soul on a canvas. They beg me: get out of your car and come sit. Forget the commute; forget papers to grade; just come sit and see a piece of nature's voice. The black birds flying in formation.

But I don't. And my eyes only watch the road. Then today, Autumn's dying, Snow is pushy, soon to coming, and the cars are all zooming down the street where I'm driving. Wind was blowing and Fall's leaves in the streets are a bouncing. They're jumping and riding the gust from the wheels of the cars. To the rhythm of rush hour, they tap the streets - their own ensemble of pianos - a ta-ta-tah-ta-ting. And their colors, a sparkling, like Christmas a coming, say even the dead leaves in the street have a voice.

Saying breathing and driving, commuting and grading, are all fine and good. But look, stand over here. Hear the loud crash of water on shinny black rocks. Feel the mist of the falls; let it prick on your face. The voices around me, though silent they are, tell of the beauty that makes up the seams of life.