Saturday, September 21, 2019

What Birds Know

The birds know something we don't know -
a change in weather, a coming doom.
One hidden sound or secret move
and they swoop or fly or flock or dive.
They have their reasons. They won't say why.

The birds know something we don't know -
when to rise and when to gather,
when to feed, when to scatter,
when to mate, where to nest,
which flowers brim with nectar as the sun begins to set.

The birds know secrets they cannot share
or if they do, I don't understand.
I can't read their language of sacred dance
that pirouettes across the skies
with their bright duets and their song-laced cries.

My rhyming is useless, my meter mute.
I lay my heart open and welcome them in,
but human beings are dangerous kin.
The gap between species yawns too wide
and loneliness lives in its canyons.

All the same, I will study the birds,
sit in their presence and try to learn.
In the monastery of my garden,
I will study with the birds.
They know something that we don't.

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