We are a pause.
A resting place.
I stand on this ground, small and still, as they pass overhead; the rushing of their wings a roar.
And though I am bound to this earth, something inside lifts as I watch them soar.
Their passing pilgrimage blocks out the light of the sun momentarily, the sky filled with these mounting black bodies…
Dipping and weaving in and out of the clouds; soaring through heavens.
I hear her voice in my mind’s ear—this childhood best friend. Though we are separated by miles and busy-ness now, her voice is crisp and clear as the call of these birds. And she is with me in this holy moment.
To my delight, this body of birds—this mass of intertwining forms has become one—circles wide and one by one, this body loses members. They alight on naked branches, each a breathing still life against the winter white sky.
My breath wisps out in front of me, curling away from these gravity-bound lips.
The beauty of this tree of living baubles quiets me…stills this soul of searching.
And then they are gone, falling back into one…mounting mountains of sky and sailing these wing-ships.
It takes my breath away—this sudden rush of wings. The way the sky looks so empty at their departure.
I watch until they disappear, tiny specks on the horizon.
“My wedding,” I breathe the words up to Him.
This moment reminds me how I wait. How I am still waiting on my Bridegroom.