Drinking Song

—just to be with us where we are,
humming your verses over us
Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶

I just saw three chickadees stun themselves, Mama Bird watching from the patio post, hopeful their wings and their wisdom would coincide with the air. They collided instead with the window I see through now, fateful glass a barrier to their flight and freedom impeding the discovery of their birdy selves as creatures made for…
Dust hovers unsettled in sunlight, threatening to land on patterned grains of tables at rest. I observe the suspension of noise, remember the activity: buzzing, rising, howling, softening. The children are gone. It is time to put things in order. Restack the books, ensconce the trinkets to their pride of place, lay out the careful…
We’ve been informed we are flying at 29,000 feet (approximately) above the face of the Earth, suspended (how? by speed, lift and whatnot) like a moving planet jettisoned in a line moving at the speed of sound (light?). Refreshments are served, secured with invisible payments traveling via plastic and magnets swiped by staff standing still…
The noisy birds squawk and squeal, an out of sync chorus bent on harmony as discordant as a traffic jam. In between the garbled avian speech I hear a finch and a robin announce, “It’s morning!” In my very vague 4:30 a.m. brain I succumb to the sounds of Creation’s alarm clock and I am…
I wanted to write like Annie Dillard away alone aware– not here in the middle of this city/suburbs life. Leave the concrete and multiplying cars with their inhuman noises, seek a vista, a vale of color and light, to inspire and bring forth words like a flowing brook across quiet pebbles. But I’m here in…
Prayer at my desk over pasta reminds me I’ve been away from this place way too long. This familiar pathway back to this quiet corner with Him– like a trail worn through the woods towards home or a boat returning to anchor in the harbor. It’s this Presence I remember, the sweet rest of…