Where do the birds go when it rains? What gives them protection from the storm? I can imagine them shivering, huddled together worried and afraid. I can also imagine them desperately scanning the horizon seeking any missing friends hoping they counted every feather in their flock.
However, what I most imagine is what they do with that fear. Do they let it consume them or do they let it release them?
And as I walk and ponder this I hear them all at once opening their throats to what begins to sound like a melody. A melody, I believe, they save only for storms. A melody of hope in the horizon where fear can not hurt them. And so they begin, one by one singing their song of courage and joy in the unknown. And as I look up I can see them imagining my fear instead of theirs. They are no different than me, I realize. And with their feathers stretched out, I begin to see them sway. Feather by feather they stretch and sway until the entire flock unites as one choir, heads raised high, eyes closed. The build up becomes so intense that it starts to grow and lift their spirits beyond the barn where they perch. Even the munching cows take notice!
The chorus continues to climb; nothing will cease the chant of love until the last drop of rain touches the earth. Even if they have to hum to the finish line, I realize, the flock will not stop for they believe their sound is their horizon.