I like to talk to the birds like old friends.
When they are here the earth is in balance, as are we.
When they disappear, the silence of sound is deafening.
They dance and sing and flit their colors about,
Take a chance”, they seem to say, “Open your heart out.”
So when you see their feathers upon the ground
It’s like a calling card, announcing they’re around.
And written there in ancient cryptic rhyme
A word or two; you see yours, I see mine.
So read them with your heart, but keep in mind,
The words are writ anew in flowing time.
And this feather is telling me the longest day is gone;
And quietly the minutes will become a fading song.
So as I walk my garden path please let my eyes be clear,
And read the lines in leaf and dirt my work has written here.