I watched the world distorted by the grey curtains of rain that fell endlessly from sullen, swollen skies; all was heavy and ponderous until the song of a single chickadee came sharp and clear from the bushes like a feathered star. After a normal but busy day of work and an anxiety attack and subsequent conversation and de-escalation, I am writing these murmurations, the last five in a row from notes taken during any spare moment, proud that I still managed to maintain a relationship with nature but promising not to do that again.