If perhaps I had not belief there can sometimes be better in the world, I would have not seen the bird that day.
Sitting at a suburban front door.
Then, this rush of feathers and soul.
The air so clean beneath its wings/
We were preparing for storms and ugliness.
But it lit down through the sadder aspects of being and with that single glance from its inquisitive eyes my heart beat so fast.
Oh, my heart.
This was my alert to that something more
we all need instead of warned a thousand times over.
It stayed a while, returned a call I feigned knowing how to make and then
Every day. I ask myself where it is.
And, I am grateful to feel that feeling so deeply for a lovely bird, a deer ambling by. A mystical beech tree leaf dropping slowly through the air.
We come undone in hard times.
But, the gentle call of the bird or the lilt of a river can pull us back together.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem