Thursday, February 11, 2010


The blackbirds are in the yard
they're loud today; this offbeat chorus
a couple hundred of them and
not a single one knows any of the words

As if sound alone could send off the snow and cold
Settling into their hollow bones
During the day they're begging desperately
for the weak-willed warmth of the sun to stay

Sometimes they fly, at some small startling sound
Fleeing their murdering suspicions
Bare tree bones provide no real protection but
at least it counts as higher ground

The chill sunset pulls all the heat out of me
I never had much to start
There's a drumbeat of wings at my back as I walk
I remind myself there is still a coming spring

Perhaps to make it up to us
To atone for early darkness, for ice and uncertainty
The stars tonight are so painfully clear
I can almost hear them sing

The birds have gone silent in the reaching trees
Straining to hear, we are absolutely still
Nights like these there's a whisper of God
With stars, perfect photos of a million years ago

Nights like these
I hear the whisper of God.

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