The birds have no idea

What’s been going on

Here they are on the Monday Morning of the world 



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


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