Perfectly Framed

Perfectly Framed

(“God’s gracious gifts and calling are irrevocable.” Romans 11:29)

Late February the frost can ice the upper hills and power lines
like wedding cake tiers, and by afternoon be nudged away to
the evergreen beneath; the love which the rains leave behind
in the moderate rainforest of the Great Northwest.

Yet, lower, where the Columbia lazily sweeps toward the sea,
the fog holds, shore to shore, the islands and lowlands, asleep
until the same sun urges its dissipation. Birdsongs replace the
foghorn the moaned morning open.

And one day, one day later, or two, in a micro-view of
frost to fog, I find upon the hillock behind my home, the
robins have gathered in the sun. A dozen redbreasts,
unhurried,
spend the richness of the sun and reap the first makings
of their spring home. Uninterrupted, without breeze or cloud,
these festival nomads fear nothing; my human presence
behind the windows, or the dogs, or the cat; they are
happily blind to us all.

But, with a highway close by, a logfull semi grumbles past,
not fast, but loudly announcing its passing. Without more
than a beat past the first diesel rumbles, the entire flock
scramble aloft and leave the incline uninhabited…

Except for,
one solo robin, larger by far than any of the rest,
lingered behind perfectly still, a garden ornament.
Older and knowing there was no danger, or fatter and
not wishing to change its solid footing; the one
remained, perfectly framed.