I stand with my feet placed
Mindfully together,
Head slowly bows
Towards the earth.
Just then, a woodpecker
Right outside my window
Shows its gaudy red cap,
Pecking loudly at the feeder.
Before you know it
He call his friends, and
I’m engaging in the banned act
Of communal prayer
With a gathering
Of birds.
I try to reflect and maintain focus
While the birds are chattering endlessly
And pecking their breakfast
Out from my birdfeeder.
Haven’t they any respect?
I chuckle at the thought
Of them in the synagogue, still yelling,
When we return to normalcy.
On top of my feeder a bluejay is singing.
There are places where gathering limits are
Smaller than my family
But the bluejay calls over
Swaths of children and friends
Without a worry.
Their world isn’t shaken,
Their world hasn’t been touched.
The birds continue chirping in sweet naivety.
They have reversed the roles on us.
While we are now caged in our homes
My birds’ cage door,
Much to their delight, is always open.
Squawking until we fulfill their every demand,
They are in the limelight of freedom in this house.
The birds are still
Waking up with the sky
And chattering during prayer
Like they have nothing to request
From God.
And there’s a sort of hope I’ve found here,
There’s a truth I’ve learned
From their tunes
When they sing, and talk,
And forget to check the news.
These birds, I think they live in the future,
When Nature will restore
What she has taken away
As Nature will do.
The birds, they act no differently
Than they did before the world
Seemed to crumble
Under the crushing of the merciless,
Veiled force, peering around every corner,
They live in the post-plague world,
They are free.
