On the windowsill,

a bird, does it sing to me?


Is it bringing news?

Flipping, flickering through the air
   Darting from branch to branch
Caught at times by the slight breeze

Alighting, picking at plants tiny seeds
   But, with one eye always seeking motion
Trees, bushes bound by their deep needs

Bare your weight without a frown
   And as you lift to seek another perch
Those branches hardly ever move

So delicate your grasping wee feet
   Your eyes so bright and shining
I watch silent as you land at my toes

You and I, we know each other well
   Me, I’ve seen you so very many times
Either fathers, mothers, here you dwell

Drop brown bread crumbs for you
   See your toes check, before you peck
So I’m lost gazing, my love for you true

Then away you flit, dart back to tree
   Leaving me behind, somewhat forlorn
However I know it’s better that you’re free

You may be strolling
along a muddy path
yet the birds sing
atop the Eden's tower
deep down you're a wonder!

There’s a new bird in the garden
A call I haven’t heard before.
I dream of beavers, incongruous and out of place.
Dam-building swimmers with no tails.

In a field nearby crows shout their business
I saw the planting there yesterday
A strong woman soring up the earth against the seedlings.

I spend too much on small-***** organic chickens.
Forage mushrooms righteously
Whilst wondering if they’ll make us sick.
I try to get it right
Over and over again

Start with self.
The others can wait.

Thoughts are just passing clouds for which to meditate.
Observe the world as the observer, not the taker or receiver.

Judges are for benches. Do not sit alone.
   Stand and walk into the songs of birds.
   Free within your self called home.

The handbook of my heart
Is one
For the birds,
As I am
Because I do
When there simply aren’t words.
So Sunday’s swan song
These little loaves
of love—
                    A bread of pray
                    For a safe journey home
                    My sweet turtle dove.