blackbird

As a child I would rest back on my pillow (with Bear) in bed during the light evenings, after maybe a lonely, bewildering, perhaps quiet day – what ever the day was; and I would gaze through the pink gauzy net curtain (the only sort of curtain that I would have) in my pink room and listen to blackbird song and the call of wood pigeons. It wasn’t that all was solved, all was happy, but all was what it was. Childhood meditation/mindfulness I suppose.