I was in one of those phases when sleep evades my grasp each night at 2:30 am. It had been going on for days, this ritual of nightly waking. Tossing and turning is not my style, so I'd rise, heat water for tea, and take my seat at the table on the porch. The porch was where I lived. The table was my kitchen table, desk, and coffee table rolled into one.
As I sat pondering the stars and musing over whatever thoughts passed through my head in the wee hours, it became my magic time. Then one night I noticed all the birds were singing. A wild symphonic choral performing in this out of place hour. There are often times I'll hear the birds singing in the moment just before the sun rises, but this was the depths of the night.
I watched and listened. The next night they sang again. This time I went inside after a few minutes and occupied myself on the computer. When I listened the birds were silent. As I stepped back onto the porch, they erupted back into song. And then I knew. All the birds were singing just for me. They sang a song of our power to touch the world all around us by simply stepping out and being present.