Sandpipers

I’ve always loved watching sandpipers. “Sandpeepers” my children used to call them. They are exquisite little birds, determined and fleet. They rush down to the shoreline as the tide goes out,  their tiny feet a blur, pick a few morsels from the sand, then just as quickly turn and race back, just ahead of the waves. It’s a synchronistic dance; a never-ending, seemingly patient pursuit, always in the moment.      

They often seem to travel in a group, but not always. When in a group, they move like one bird, together yet not infringing on one another’s space. Alone, they are a single, perfect, zigzagging note.

Not dissimilar from our own pursuits. Their worries, if they have them, are different. No bills, no possessions to speak of. Something to think about. Watching them, I’m in the moment, too. 

Another gift from nature.