Bardic Path Work: Awen Focus: Morning

Early each Sunday morning, I take my trash out to the dumpster near my building. Behind this dumpster is a large field bordered by woods. Beyond the woods are the railroad tracks of the Norfolk and Southern Railroad. Since everything seems so still at this time, I often go to the edge of the woods to listen to “morning.”

The Sunday, I focused on “Awen” was a winter day, devoid of greenery. I stood at the edge of the woods and awaited the day to begin, which out started grey and overcast. The sun was rising but the light was still low. First, I heard the “coo, coo, coo” of the mourning doves, who were resting in the maple trees. The red-bellied woodpecker, hopping along on a trunk of an oak tree, answered them with “Churrups, churrps.” A staccato rhythm continued with the doves and woodpecker calling and responding.

While that was going on, two Carolina wrens searched for food among the tangled basswood trees, hopping from limb to limb. Finally stopping, they began to trill loudly, “pidaro, pidaro, pidaro.” These small pugnacious birds provided the counterpoint to the doves and woodpecker. The rhythm of the bird calls became faster and faster, announcing “Morning is coming!”

 Then silence came abruptly over the field. Something unseen had passed through the woods. My grandmother referred to this phenomenon of noise then sudden silence as “an angel just walked by.” In the presence of the Sacred, we all became silent.

 After a brief while, the woodpecker quietly went “quir, quir”. Then, the two wrens answered, with “tweepudo dip dip dip.” Adding to their calls, the doves boomed “coo, coo, coo.” Again the rhythm of the doves calling and the other birds responding continued, as if nothing had happened. Once the sun became brighter, the birds stopped and went about their business. Morning had arrived.