As this rain ebbs grey birds appear again
As from nowhere, they roost in high branches
And flick their tails and shake their heads, quicker than sparks
.
The long, compound leaves of the walnuts
Bow under the dripping wet weight, as if praying
As if giving thanks for this long and gentle blessing
.
The branches of the young black oak
Lift so slightly, like fingers tapping
In the slow breeze that whispers “All things are made new”
.
Quiet: a male cardinal makes a red dot
In the green canopy of vines
And the interlocking arms of the maples
.
Now look at that odd and unrecognized species, two of them
Lighting in the very top, arguing with each other
Telling of joy and mystery and wisdom long forgotten
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