Couple of crows sat on the brown branch of a tree full
of cheerful green leaves reflecting the mellow morning sun. The sounds flowing
across the air was an amalgamation of bird talk and cool breeze rustling the
leaves as if testing the beauty that those soft leaves flaunted elegantly. The
sun shone somewhere in the shadows, waiting for its hour to strike when it
would shine in all its glory. The squirrels meandered about the trees, looking
for something, restless, searching.
The crows were joined by a pigeon but they did not seem
to mind. Soon they were to fly away , possibly purposefully or just due to
their innate restlessness. Do birds really have a purpose? Maybe, it is not
their burden to decipher. They just are, doing what they are programmed to do,
thinking little, acting for action’s sake and living. Is there a lesson there
for us, the only ones granted the exceptional and rare ability to think about
things like purpose, become sad about the past and worry about the future? But
that is not the point.
The point here is that there are birds and trees and
sunlight and breeze and squirrels and music. There is Life and it is beautiful.
