A song in winter

They sit on naked limbs and branches,scouring the barren landscape for a morsel of food,becoming more scarce everyday.And yet,they sing.The bitter cold north wind blows their soft downy garb in every direction,giving them a disheveled look.And yet,they sing! Their eyes,squinted to stave off as much of the cold wind as possible,reflect a hint of bewilderment and apprehension.And yet,they sing! Through rain,ice,snow,danger of predators,and everything that winter can throw at them;they sing.Their song is not forced or coerced,but robust,genuine,and even more comforting and reassuring because of the rugged conditions under which it is being performed.It is simply what they were created to do.Perhaps,in some way that we cannot comprehend,they are aware of the words of a lowly galilean,who promised that "not one sparrow falls from the heavens without the father knowing." So,armed with faith alone,they sing.I stop,dead in my tracks,marvel at the sound,at the faith,and receive my lesson.The father is telling me to listen and learn,and so I listen,and so I learn.I learn from a pure source.For they are teaching me without motive,without an expected reciprocation of money or praise.Help me father,like them,to have a song,even in the cruel winter that lies ahead.Help me to hear the words of the lowly galilean,"even the very hairs of your head are numbered." Give unto me that I might have and express "a song in winter."