A breeze invisible to the naked eye stirs the spirits of these winged creatures. Almost as one, their flock turns true north, setting their graceful heads to the wind. How is it that these winged creatures stir at the merest ruffle of the wind? How is it that their spirits respond to the merest breathe of air? Where are you Holy Spirit? Do you stir my spirit without response? Do you call me like fresh breath? Am I yet still enough to respond?
