STORIES AND SONGS

I first saw you on an evergreen stage glistening bright from the storm last night. You were wearing a formal black jacket with red epaulettes and you groomed the fringe in place. I sat so still, hoping you’d remain. Satisfied, you sang. A short hike from where we stayed in this hidden canyon place was a spring among the rocks where birds of your kind flocked to drink and share stories and songs carried along by the cold brook that flowed from this source. And I found myself thirsty for the same. (Psalm 63)

I first encountered red-winged blackbirds when we camped at Cold Brook Canyon, a hidden gem several miles outside of Hot Springs, South Dakota.