For you, little snow bird
Wings and flight so white
I watch you fly amidst your flock
So jagged yet so spry
May your Winter be met with warmth
A nest so tenderly Laid
To find your spring so enchanting
As life begins again.
How do you manage the weight of the world
When the weight of the world is too much?
When the birds are all sent to the sky, flying
By the dinosaur bones floating through the air?
How do the trees that lived for ten thousand years
Live for thirty years rotting in a house?
How does a landscape dug up, bulldozed around,
Erected with skyscrapers of metal and glass
Placed on the land held sacred for generations
Now become meaningless and void?
Perhaps it’s become a subject of cultural appropriation
Us humans and that of the Gods,
Powerful mother Gaia and her wiles and subtlety
And a grandiose sense of reality.
Sing to me your sweetest song
I heard you singing over there
Append to that a touch of heart
I crave for, like morning to start.
Should each new day
Bring me your so-sung song
I should fall into eternal reverie
At once awoke and set so free.
Long ago I wondered if
A bird’s sweet song could be sung again
And at every chance I so spun
I listened on so intent.
Then I heard you open up
With such lyric that touched my heart
At once I was deeply touched
And longed again: your sweetest song.
I took a step into the forest
So wild and carefully
Paying attention to my every breath
And my ever so lightly step
I heard the sounds of a singing bird
One that wasn’t afraid of me
I heard the songs of swaying trees
Gently cackling at me
As I moved my view became
For I had become to see life as
Accompanying nature’s needs.
I wondered how many stars could align
How many mistakes I could ever make
I wondered if there was any way in the world
I could ever make sense of what I could not learn.
I wondered if there was beautiful symmetry
In the colours that lay upon Bumble Bees back
I wondered if Tree had the consciousness
To let out its needles and drop all its leaves.
I wondered how Weeds felt blowing in the wind
I wondered how Evening felt always chasing the day
I wondered how Birds felt calling out in vain
And on everything dust settles like snow and the rain.
If that was then
Then this is by no means the end,
Two wheels rolling
And clouds so clear
Even birds faintly pass between them.
A dollar is gone.
Was it an even game?
A hand that served up
Delicious things, unnamed.
An engine that roared
As it began.
Lucky is every lost soul traveling on;
Full tank and such sweetness of a radio,
Then by two, sun’s beating in
Escaping for a moment into shade.
Watch Clouds and every bird so clear.
That was then and now is the end.