In the late afternoon hours of waning light, I walked across Loring Park on my way to the light rail station. It was very cold yesterday. I am not sure the temperature made its way into the double digits. This cold makes for very vivid and clear colors reflected in both sky and earth. The sky seems bluer, the trees darker. The blue of sky reflects on the snow covered ground making a sea of blue that seems endless.

 As I walked, surrounded by the steam of my own breath, I heard the call of the jet black crows calling from the tops of the naked trees.Having learned over this past year that crows have the ability to recognize humans, that they come to not only recognize them but develop a certain like or dislike of we two-leggeds, I was hoping to be on their good side because I was certainly out numbered. In the frigid air their strident crowing was nearly deafening. I slowed to watch them, sitting like royalty at the tops of the trees, singing their song for all to hear. What must their view be like from that vantage point? I might sing loudly too if I could see what they see. Instead I huddled my shoulders around my ears to keep out the cold.

Then I saw what they were most likely crowing about. Sitting in the center of the now frozen lake, a group of their own kind sat in a circle….really, it was a circle….having a feast,eating something, perhaps a fallen squirrel or other smaller bird. I noticed then that every now and then a call would be let out and one or two black forms would swoop from the treetop to take their place in the circle. There was a winter picnic happening right there in the middle of the stilled and solid water. These birds often thought of as greedy rogues seemed to be taking turns, sharing the gift of this cold winter meal. 

I smiled as I continued my walk. It seemed even these scavengers of death had been infused with a little holiday generosity. Perhaps it was just a survival of the fittest mentality but to my untrained eye, it seemed a circle of generosity saying that especially in these cold, winter days we need to stick together, draw our circle closer and share the goodness with which we are blessed.

 I am thankful to the crows for this reminder, for this lesson offered up in the subtle blue of a closing day.

"Crow is crow, you say.
 What else is there to say?
Drive down any road,
take a train or an airplane
across the world, leave
your old life behind,
die and be born again-
wherever you arrive
they'll be there first,
glossy and rowdy
and indistinguishable.
The deep muscle of the world."
~Mary Oliver