Say, do you guys know "Take the A Train?"

My dearest Nora, wherever thou mayst roam,

As I chased off the sleepiness from my eyes this morning, I began to take note of the beautiful conglomeration of sounds from just through the sliding glass door. For a few moments, I just sat there and listened.

Four distinctive patterns constantly making their presence known. A fifth chimes in every 30-45 seconds, it seems.

It's all so lovely and peaceful. I went out on the porch for a few minutes to see if I could catch any sort of glimpse of the beautiful creatures producing such sweet notes. No dice, but it was apparent that they were all around. Birds in stereo.

Rarely do I have a chance to take in this natural symphony at my apartment. I reckon the birds, save for some vultures (yes, indeed), don't much like to be there either.

Each and every time I wake and hear birds singing for me, I'm reminded of a particular morning in my youth. My family was on vacation to an area not so far from here, actually, at my grandmother's house. I was afforded the luxury of sleeping in the room my father occupied during his youth. He told me stories of waking up to find all sorts of wildlife perched upon the roof of the screen porch, just below his window, and I was out like a light in anticipation of what animals I might see in the morning.

I didn't see any, but I heard them.

I first remember the ceiling fan. We'd not lived in a house with a ceiling fan at this point and it was one of the things I enjoyed most about visiting my grandparents in the south. I'd stretch out on the floor below them and try to follow a particular blade for as long as I could. I've always been easily amused.

Next, I took note of the bedsheets. They were a light tan, almost white-ish, with a pattern of triangles separated by about half an inch of blank space. Reminded me of something you might see on a tie.

Then, I heard it all.

First, a woodpecker...but I had no idea what it was. I thought someone was out there hammering away on something.

Next, I heard some high-pitched chirping which sounded so sweet and charming, and it was then that I can first recall thinking that the life of a bird might be one I'd like to have a go at.

To round things out, I heard kind of a squawking, honking sound...it was kept to a minimum. For whatever reason, I decided that it was  pelican producing that rather odd sound. heh.

Even though my parents were busy getting ready to go out in the next room over, and I should've been doing the same, I couldn't help but lay there (hands folded behind my head), staring out at the slice of bright, blue, and cloudless sky through the window and taking in every last chirp.

Then, just as now, I wished that I could experience the same back home.

May the grace of He keep you always,

J.O. Morris