In the past few years, I began to slow down, and one of the first things I noticed is that little grey birds are everywhere, going about their lives, often completely oblivious or at least ambivalent to most of the things a human might consider urgent or meaningful. The miracle of their life is something they understand in a manner entirely outside of what people can comprehend, and we are likely as opaque to them as they are to us. They aren't metaphors, they're not here to sing you songs or tell you it's going to be alright, they're here to be little grey birds. That we're sharing this tiny corner of creation for the briefest moment is just a happy accident.
This one was near Tomales Bay, in or around Inverness, CA