Moving spirits on an Easter back porch

"The wind blows where it wants to. You hear its sound, but you don't know where it comes from or where it is going. That's the way it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit." --John 3:8 Back porch Sunday morning ritual: coffee, New York Times, shafts of sunlight, gathering clouds, buzz of insects, birdsong, rustling leaves--the sounds of silence. Time to think, to observe, to be alone, to enjoy fresh air and the outdoors. The workaday world and worries and wrongness  are far away. Then I'm disturbed by this large rushing sound, more than wind. A flock of more than 50 birds descends into the oak trees, the sound of their wings an unexpected joy. They spot the red berries on a bush, investigate, perch in the tree limbs. I freeze, barely moving, wondering. Something spooks them and they leave in a resounding and erratic rush of wings, only to return in a few seconds.  They're robin-sized, but I can see a dark streak around their eyes. I think they're Cedar Waxwings, but we've only had one or two occasionally at the house before. I edge indoors quietly to get my binoculars and bird book. For a couple of minutes they sit, like they're meditating, or somehow communicating, yet they're silent. Then they move, a few at a time, to the adjacent yard and another big tree. In five minutes, they're gone in another tumultuous rush of wings.  Why here? They view our red-berried bush in the back yard. Later in the day, the berries are gone, as they are. but I think they came for another reason. How will I remember this Easter morning? A huge rush of wing sounds from an unusual visitor, reminding me of creation's greatness, and life's wonder.