Serendipities and moments miraculous

It is March in these mountains of the Southwest, our latest  snow storm three days ago giving us near a foot of powdery fluff, has already melted. I walk around the courthouse one evening at dust, last colors of the sunset glow peach and magenta,  the courthouse owl hoots, then flies silently overhead into deepening darkness.  I teach some little ones a song about 'one swallow come', then at a drawing class a friend shows me a picture of the swallows returning to San Juan Capistrano.  I take a walk along the creek full of snow melt, a first butterfly is fluttering, with camera, I gyrate with its flight trying to take its picture, instead it comes and sits on my trigger finger.  The touch of a butterfly, its wings airing upon my finger.  No picture taken, but a heart has been captured.  Some walkers upon the path point out a great blue heron that has landed behind me.  I retrace my steps, and photograph her, yet she is weary of me and soon will fly away. I walk back and listen to a thicket of 'o ke chees' - the red wing blackbirds are singing in the riparian swamps. So passes the weeks before spring, I am soaring.