Birdsong

Beneath the 18th Avenue
D train station,
You can stand at dawn
And listen to
The morning songs
Of dozens and dozens of birds.

Before sunrise,
The streets are empty of
Heavy traffic and people.
It's at that point,
When night is yielding to day,
That the sparrows and pigeons and starlings
Burst into song.
It sounds the way
I imagine a tropical rain forest would,
A cacophony of language,
A symphony of avian sound!
Countless bird voices,
Sing their good mornings
To each other
And to God.

What are they saying, I wonder?
My imagination concocts
What I would sing to God
If I was a wild bird...

"O great and wonderful Creator,
Thank You for another day
To fly free in the great blue,
To eat of Your bounty
With my fellow birds,
And to nest in warm, safe places
That You provide for me!
Grant that my bird soul
Beholds Your Beauty
In the World to Come!"

I stand,
And listen,
And think about
Lillies...
And sparrows...