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This day, oh, this day… shoved joy and gratitude in my face, then tossed in beauty and just a touch of grace. A Piping Plover set my sorrows by the side, nabbing morsels when it could, then racing from the tide. Junior Eagle perched…
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He was already up before the sun could cast the usual large, black blanket over the island’s tropical trees and paint pictures within its jungle. By now, the helicopters were already in landing position. Bullets and plasma shots were being sent back and f
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Not a locust of birds swimming
into the last of the grain plowed.
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Then sings the Bird-Who-Prays. She mumbles softly asking forgiveness for all the sinners of the world and food for all the hungry children. He knows as well as she, she has long since lost her faith and only sings out of habit.
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A box with six birds in the back yard —
Palm-sized Chickadees with black-capped heads.
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That blue is not a colour but a territory of sight.
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We lined up opposite one another, instructed to stare into the other person's eyes for fifteen seconds. No talking. The debris of loneliness. Eyes welled with tears.
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This is no time for those of a religious persuasion. No.
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