! ! The Early Blackbird

A blackbird has been sitting outside the window for some time this morning, and I’m trying to tune in to its blackbird thoughts, if indeed it’s burdened with such tiresome delaying tactics to action… it seems indecisive, though; evidently, plumply, having well breakfasted; does the head switching left, right, a little slower than with alarm, signify some Hamlet thought? it could be wondering, if, in view of what a blackbird would call global warming rather than an early summer, it should sing? since the early bird, it must have been taught, or intuited, catches the first mate.. I try looking at it severe of mind, as mindless tool of Evolution (and yes, me too…) only concerned with food and sex and sex and food, and other internet concerns in cyber blackbird space… but that goes nowhere in the mind.. I open the front door a crack, whistle a poor imitation of a blackbird’s song; it twists its head for a moment as of impatience at some irrelevant comment; flies off; returns; like I do, when I’ve lost the train of thought that sent me somewhere in the house but have forgotten what it was… I’ll keep an eye out for it tomorrow… and turn back to the computer, remembering Nicholas of Cusa who says, there is no other: always, we are looking at the face of God…