There are moments when the light lifts. Just so. And I can take a deep breath. With that catch in my throat. And maybe I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath for months. Tight. And then release. At last. It's the birds' fault.
Watching the birds in early spring has a kind of tenderness that makes my eyes feel wider. I think about flying with the wonder of a toddler. The birds are gleeful, singing their arias pell mell over the meadow. It's almost as if they are lifting the light themselves.