What are my little airborne friends trying to say to me
On this particular day
In May. Could it be
The joy of life and every breath
That springs from all who dwell on earth?
Or might it be a melody
Of praise to God Almighty? Filled with wonder
At how it all began. And stays
Wondrous in its beauty and its form,
In spite of dark and dire news
That fills the space where small wings fly.
Do they hear the rage and rambling
Of demented human minds,
Even those in places
High and lifted up, like palaces and Houses
White and guarded?
Perhaps they know, and yet they fill
The skies with what they can,
To bring the light and hope and peace
That we must surely need
To keep our minds from falling
In despair for what we’ve done
To mar the face of this good earth
And try to stop the mouths of those
Who will not be denied.