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It’s fall.
The birds gather preparing their exodus.
The humming birds have been gorging.
How do they store it?
Beaks stabbing, they fight off their siblings.
So tiny. So aggressive. So defensive.
So gorgeous.
In contrast, the starlings—a host of them—
land on the lawn,
little undertakers in their best blacks,
stepping solemnly on the green carpet.
Soon the exasperating geese will fly off.
very high in their V formation.
We will watch in awe
as their leaders change and alternate.
How do they know: departure date,
direction to go,
when and where to rest,
find food for all,
where to settle anew …
Lord, all they have are bird brains!
It’s as if
You the Creator of all things
have given them superior sense.
They just know.
Lord, have mercy on such as we
to whom you have given
so much more than bird brains.
Why do we distrust that innate other sense?
Because we fear … what?
and so refuse to bow
before your Reality and adore.
Some day, we too will have our exodus.
