as it must come
every morning;
and in rounds too—swelling
around and around
and so-on-
compounding—thick as midnight,
but somehow never obscuring
the fleet light of its message.
And within those
rounds—and flooding
inward through each of those chosen
plum dark stained windows, warm
and warbling as it ever shall be—
comes the very same catechism.
This is the liturgy
of a few
of a few
chirping birds—
when you too—choose to make your racket,
when you too—choose to make your racket,
can you also?
manage
to
to
make it so—
agreeable?
