I woke up this morning at 6:06. My clock said 6:12, but I set my clock a little ahead of real time so I can have five minutes or so of just BEING before moving. My alarm was set for 6:25, but it is not unusual for me to wake naturally just a few minutes before my programmed wake-up time. It’s as if setting my alarm is only a ritual I perform in order to go to sleep feeling secure that I won’t “miss anything” important. I almost never do. My body knows when to stir itself awake.

When the read-out on my old GE clock radio flashed 6:23, I turned the volume dial all the way to the left, just before the “wake to music” cue would shock the ease of my dream space with something from my favorite station’s play list or a foreboding traffic report. For a few minutes, I simply stretched my legs and wondered what part of the floor the book I was reading before falling asleep may have landed. (I almost always knock it out of bed.) And I was listening to the birds.

The birds outside my window were having a helluva talk this morning.

I could discern the distinct sound of one bird prattling on to what seemed to be a small group within hearing range. Three or four different voices called back. Each spoke at his own pitch. Each had his own way of slurring some of his cries and registering others as a staccato sort of tapping. Hu-eeet, Hu-eeet. Ah-ah-ahh-ah-ahhh. They obviously didn’t believe in texting. It was a sort of joyous noise, a song of familiarity. What did they talk about? Where they found food in the neighborhood alleys? Did they talk about lost loves, or other yearnings? Ee-ee-eee, hu-eet. Were they discussing the weather? Were they warning each other not to get caught in the pulley of an electric garage door? Their exchange seemed excited at first, as if they hadn’t seen each other for a long time. Then their calls grew longer as did the pauses between their back and forthing.

I don’t wake up so that I can get ready for work. I don’t wake up in the morning so that I can meditate or write in my journal. I don’t wake up in the morning so that I can make apple pancakes and take my vitamins…although I may do all these things.

I wake up precisely for this moment. I wake up so I can hear the birds, so I can hear the birds talking to each other when everything else in the world is cotton on cotton quiet.

Waking up to the simple, satisfied chirping of a sparrow is no small thing.