A Litany For The Birds
A first bird
In early mourning
Calls out the names
Of each creature
No longer in this realm this day
A second bird
In a coo of sorts
Sings out the names
Of each soul first born this day
And better yet, of those to be born anew
A third bird
Weaves prayers
For all that has brought us here this day
And for awe that is yet to come
Nesting all of our daze
Oft seeming out of nothing to no end
I often write poems as a form of therapy. I have often thought that I would do better to not have birds cawing and singing in the early morning. This poem turns that oft seeming useless or annoying ritual into something meaningful, even awe-inspiring. I do find great comfort in the awesome power of nature that nests life. poems and rituals are the stuff of myth, and sometimes I have to intentionally myth the point to reconnect with awesomeness and gratitude.
