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Perspective: The stillness of early morning

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/
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The stillness of early morning speaks to me.

The gentle breeze, the hummingbird at the feeder, the dragonflies dancing gracefully hither and yon. In joyful accompaniment, a pair of wrens sing their melodic song like a hymn to summer.

And I am grateful for the reminder.

For our hearts are heavy with the turmoil of the world. The weeping of Uvalde families continues to echo in our hearts; the roaring Russian missiles shatters prospects of peace; and the angry, hate-filled voices of politics shout across the airwaves, social media, and spill into our relationships.

With it all comes a weary sadness that seeps into our souls and makes us wonder what happened to kindness, compassion, and love thy neighbor as thy self?

The poet Mary Oliver, a keen observer and admirer of nature, asks in her Poem 133: The Summer Day, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

In these tumultuous times, as we struggle individually with how to bring back a more peaceful humanity, Oliver’s question is a difficult one to answer. But as I listen to the wrens, I am inspired by the gift of their lilting music.

For even though these tiny birds look out from their birdhouse perch at a world filled with challenges, such as the keen-eyed hawk sitting high in a nearby tree, still they sing.

So let us hear it. Let us hear this song of sweetness, its grace, its hope. But more importantly, let us be that song. For ourselves, for each other, for the world.

Marnie O. Mamminga has been a professional essayist and features writer for more than 20 years.