The Vulnerability of Birds

I. 
Feathers follow me where I go 
And show me the way 
A confirmation from the other side of the veil 
I’m on the right track 

Wine is a thief 
Who steals from me moments 
Yes of my life but more importantly 
From yours 

Today on our walk 
My first day after giving up wine 
We saw so many feathers on the ground

II.
It’s time to quit 
When my day looks forward to 
The serum of anti-presence 
I wonder for hours whether I will 
Pour the glass 

Even knowing your tiny eyes 
Will watch 
And learn from me the lie 
That there's someplace better to be 

A bird's nature is gentle 
It does not wish for another moment 
It will fly, build its nest, feed its young 
Thinking of nothing else 

Even an animal who would ravish it into oblivion 
Rending the bird wing from wing 
Cannot take its grace 

As you can plainly see 
In the forgiveness heaving from its tiny bosom 
Each wisp of breath 
Threatening mercifully to be its last 

There is something heavenly 
In the way it lays 
Surrounded by shredded plumage 
A scattering of its life 
    Not clinging 
    Nor afraid 
In surrender

III.
In your deep way that babies have 
Of not just looking 
But seeing 
Softly lacking the ability to assess the meaning of it all 
Not wondering about the mess of feathers 

You simply inhale the world 
As it is 
Like a flower or 
Your mama’s smile 

Wiser than I,
You teach me about the birds and 
Suddenly there's nowhere else to go 

IV. 
You don’t yet know that 
These feathers are little omens 
To me from the ancestors 
Who, in their wisdom, 
Alternately heal and warn 
Drawing them to me 
And me to you 

Would it be too much to tell you 
That you are my reason? 
Swirling the air with your hand as you dance 
Your silhouette hesitating akimbo in the doorframe 
    as you devour the landscape 

I am your ancestor 
Let my life be pure 
Protecting your wholeness 

We can spend the evenings on the swing 
Drinking in the air & the sunset 
Looking for the crow who calls 
From the top of the swaying pine 
We caw in answer