The birds have fled,
flown the coop
as it were.
They’ve gone the way of the dodo
and the cricket
and bullfrog.
Good old Jeremiah has grown
silent with their absence.
It has not made my heart grow fonder,
not at all.
At least there is good parking now.
Still, I miss the birds,
and the sounds of
exultation as they rose in
such graceful joy,
from earth to
heaven, again and again,
angels caught,
captured in an updraft
on their way
to God.