From a broken stumped tree, I gazed down at three silences, sitting on a log. They closed their eyes and drank in the air.
From the shrub and the trees opposite, through the twigs, a robin redbreast flew out dancing over the air and bouncing off the ground until he came to rest, in stillness, just inches in front.
Momentary.
He flew away, quicker that the gentle wind that was fanning the trees.
Back again, away again.
Three times he moved; a musical rhythm.
He disappeared one last time and then reappeared again. Three silences opened their eyes to his red presence.
They looked.
He sat. He stayed. Sharing in their stillness. With them in their silence.
His movement barely broke the peace. Nimbly he hopped on the dirt and grass; furtively, he flew away.
This time not to return.