Conversations About God

Earlier,
the birds had conversations
on the rooftop edge adjacent
to our window casement.
My simple heart imagined them Christians,
setting about their Sunday reflections
not
complex nature’s gentle wings,
whom,
feathered in a colour of complacence,
dusty brown,
communicate in private terms.

…then one
and two
and three flew down,
resumed their search for worms.

A day’s carefree dreams fly away,
as my talking Christian birds did do,
when splashed by cold-water fact.
For example; that sky above is empty black
and our atmosphere’s what sun lights blue.
…the garden of eden?
…probably not true.