I stood under the stars, and listened. Was that a faraway chirping sound? Maybe it was a flock of small birds passing high overhead, tweeting their contact calls. At this time of year, the night sky is full of migrating songbirds returning to wintering grounds in the south. We usually don’t see or hear them, but high above our heads, they’re flowing through the darkness like a river. Summer is slipping away, nightly.
Glimpses of Eden
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