Saturday, September 17, 2011

The Bird

Tiny claws grasp fir needles.
Hungry beak searches for small fruits
among fragrant green points.

Wild vines twist and twine
among the branches,
a current heavy banquet.

What is she to me?
Yellow-tipped, fawn feathers
casting about, alert for food or danger.

I am not even as good as a purple berry to her
but she delays flight
as I step imperceptibly closer.

Do you feel the Garden, Little Sister?
Light but a moment upon my coat
and Eden lives.

Let me hold you warm in cupped hands
feel soft wing to cheek
and two worlds become concrescent.

When berries fail Providence provides,
as I will hide your form in my winter heart
to nibble through to Spring.


"Ask the animals what they think—let them teach you;
let the birds tell you what's going on.
Put your ear to the earth—learn the basics.
Listen—the fish in the ocean will tell you their stories.
Isn't it clear that they all know and agree
that God is sovereign? That He holds all things in His hand—
Every living soul, yes, every breathing creature." Job 12:7-10

To John, my bird lover, the only man whose hand has ever covered mine, in celebration of a wonderful Fall day spent in the company of the God of all things.

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