Birdsong

St. Matthew 10:29

A fledgling dead, its little body limp

Not yet devoured by cats and ants and time

New russet feathers shining back the sun

Forever-still wings that cannot sing the wind

A handsome beak that now will never know

The sensual savour of seeds and worms,

Or gossip and prate around the summer lawn

Where summer romance sweetens the twilight air:

We only know that this small life was sent –

And that may well explain the universe

By Mack Hall

 

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