Cup.jpg

 


 

The birds have no idea

What’s been going on

Here they are on the Monday Morning of the world 

Singing

 

I sit in outside in crisp April air

Caught between seasons

Thaw-freeze breath and

Coffee steam rising like incense 

 

The birds have no idea 

When they snap the silence

I’ve been holding 

Taught and thin and iridescent as a blown bubble

Between myself and God

 

First the singsong tweet of songbirds

Harmonizing from the east with the  morning sun

 

A crow’s clumsy caw next

And then the barking of a dog a block away

Just to bring us back to earth

 

A buzzing from the west like electric hum

Somewhere near the power lines are more birds

Swirling as the song of bees

 

Far off now – Northeast 

The little pierce of a gull

Perhaps down at the riverfront park

 

Enter from the Southwest 

A solitary honking goose

So loud I rise from my porch to see

 

The more I listen the more I hear 

Rising like old church bells 

Birdsong all around me

Oblivious joy

 

Leave a Comment