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  • Writer's pictureCrone

Sun god in the snow

... but before I saw him, I saw a kingfisher skimming down the river. The bird looked, on this dull day, black with a flash of brilliant turquoise iridescence on his back. He was a streamlined as a water creature, his sharp beak leading his way and his wings so fast my eyes scarcely acknowledged them.

I think it was the first time that I had seen one in real life and the darkness of the day made him almost unrecognizable as there was so little light drawn to his reflective plumage, yet still he was brilliant - a flash of blue-green fire in the dimness.

I passed by a pair of mallards, a male and a female, content together until my presence made them take off, paddling quickly with the strong current.

When I came upon the swan, I was happy to see him - but unhappy to see him again alone. I asked him where his mate was, but he did not deign to respond, just shook his head and dabbled in the water with his big, blunt beak.

The birds' music above me... it's more musical than music somehow. No, that's not right... it's that there's a something that a bird's song can create that no man made instrument can... not quite richness... something like water in the simultaneous clarity and depth... not so sharp as crystalline... a fullness and a purity that nothing but their adapted nature can create.

They are all in their way divine.

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