Birds and Stars

Sometimes, still,I sing to hear the soundand wonder ifour dusty-brownbirds do this, too.Though worksong’s ofutmost import every day,I’m sure birds alsoplay. I’m certain theymight call each othersilly names at times,sole to hear anecho backas summer’s sunclimbs. Further, yet, my theory is:life keeps an hour divineto step asideand game at love. The proof of this glowshighContinue reading “Birds and Stars”

Me, Pussycat, God

If I were the Pussycatand Hewereme, I wonder exactlyhow thatwouldbe. I might sit,contented,my own simple businessto mind and,suddenly,find my whole self lifted in air,to be cheek by jowland ear pressed to ear. I’d struggle,push, lean,and rathernot be there but I’d have nothing to fear. All powerful,the Pussycat’dhave no reason to be mean, I’d feel lovedandContinue reading “Me, Pussycat, God”

Sunday, At Church

It is raining.Tiny brown/grey birds(I believe they are sparrows)huddle under eaves next door.A dirty and thirsty one hop/flies upfor a drink and quick bath atthe metal trough above him/her whilethe rest stare into a slanted downpour,perhaps thinking private thoughts.They are waiting for the rain to stop,possibly chatting with each otherin the way that birds mustContinue reading “Sunday, At Church”