An evening dance

Feeling sick for my farewell party meant that I didn’t have to play volleyball. Instead, I stretched out on the church building’s back steps and watched twilight steal over the sky.

Soon the birds came. Birds! In the craziness of the past few days I had forgotten. I gazed intently and greeted the creatures I had come to know so well during the summer.

The swifts took the stage. They waltzed and twirled, and I wished I could join in.

Next a few doves dashed across. Why are they always in such a hurry?

Mockingbirds flapped behind them, sometimes coming close enough to allow me to see their markings.

Then came the star – the nighthawk. Aside from a brief glimpse of a few while driving through West Texas, I hadn’t seen any since before I had learned what they were. Then, I was focused on identification. Now, though, I could enjoy the bird.

I recognized the white stripes on the underside of the wings. I had tried to attempt an identification with only those at first. I hadn’t noticed the way the wings sweep back so gracefully, the triangular head, the way the birds flutter.

All too soon, the nighthawks made their exit. The rest of the dance was filled with the usual birds. Usual, but not really usual. How can any part of creation be usual?

Soon little brothers needed care, so I went inside, feeling restored and refreshed from my night with the birds.