Monday, June 9, 2025, 51.4*, 0604
I opened the door for last call surprised by the peeper chorus. I thought they were gone, or at least their singing. I waited so long to hear them, to hear anything this spring.
We waited for music this morning. Finally, a crow cawing. Leaves are as still as the voices, the pond like glass. Sudden stillness is a sign to take sails down; to batten down the hatches. This stillness portends something else. A mystery morning keeps to herself. The crow has stopped cawing.
Listen for the singing within.
Photo: LJ Austin
