Zion Watching

I walk the morning field
with pockets of silence,
eyes lifted to branches
where nothing is happening—
until suddenly, everything is.
A flash of wing,
a tremor of color,
a song that was always there
but only now heard
because I learned to listen.

Bird watching teaches me
that arrivals are gentle,
rare things land softly,
and glory prefers
to travel in whispers.
So I practice the same art
with the world,
with my neighbors,
with my own heart—
Zion watching.

I look for kindness
perched on a conversation,
courage circling a wounded life,
mercy nesting
in unlikely hands.
No trumpets,
no headlines—
just small sightings
of a people becoming new,
one softened soul at a time.

And when hope appears—
like a bird on a thin branch—
I do not grab it,
I simply watch,
and give thanks,
for the world
is already filling
with wings.

Zion Coalition (Birdwatchers)
We are not storm-chasers
or empire-builders.
We are watchers.
We walk the edges of fields
and the margins of communities,
listening for songs
that do not announce themselves.

Zion is not built
by noise or urgency—
it appears the way rare birds do,
quietly,
in ordinary branches.

So we carry patience
like binoculars,
learning to recognize
the faint calls of kindness,
the shy-winged beginnings
of trust and belonging.

We notice when courage
lands in a conversation,
when forgiveness
returns to an old wound,
when a heart that once hid
begins to lift its head.

We catalogue these sightings
not in ledgers,
but in gratitude—
a growing record
of small holiness.

Zion Coalition is a fellowship
of observers and encouragers,
people who refuse despair
because they have seen
too many bright wings
to believe the sky is empty.

We do not force the future—
we wait with reverence
for what is already arriving,
and when goodness appears,
we simply say:
I see it.
I see Zion there.