Light, Dark, and Following the Crows

On finding light

"Can we just sit quietly together?" fox asked.

"I would like that," her heart replied. "I would like that very much."

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Mobile: The Original Wavy Gravy (40" x 24")
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Thoughts while making

Where will you find light today?

Each morning, just before dawn, I watch crows fly east toward the rising sun.

"Fly toward the light," they say.

Each night, just before dark, I watch crows fly west toward the setting sun.

"Fly toward the light," they say.

In the winter, crows share communal roosts, hundreds to thousands coming together each night.

For safety. For warmth. For connection.

As day breaks, I see them as I walk, moving east overhead, dispersing into smaller groups, seeking food.

Tracing the same flight paths west each evening, I see them again as I walk, their numbers swelling as they approach the roost, other flocks joining the ranks.

The sun sets. And dark descends.

The sun rises. And shadows disperse.

The sun sets. And dark returns.

Ebb and flow.
Rotation and revolution.
Rhythm and melody.

Seasons change, yet truth remains:

"Fly toward the light."
"Fly toward the light."
"Fly toward the light."

Where will you find light today?

For me, I'll look for it in my walks, on the wings of crows tapping an ancient wisdom in the air.