I had time to come home for lunch today, and as I was rushing out the door to go back to work, I realized that I hadn't caught a morning glimpse of the hummingbird that flits and zzzzes to the feeder outside our dining room window. As soon as I stood still and accidentally entered the unfamiliar silence of no-thought, the hummingbird's sturdy little "chip chip chip" sound popped out from its perch on a tiny twig of the dogwood, a bright note in the continuous wild music that makes this world.
(From Louis Schwartzberg's fantastic Wings of Life)
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