A Poem of Mine

Bird Church
On a long black pew sit our feathered friends,

First giving thanks for a leaf-free view of their God.

A loner in the morning mist, hunched down in his gray coat,

steals glances at the rest of the congregation.

Communing in the form of respectful silence,

the birds save their singing for a less holy time; or for danger.

The hierarchy is evident,

even the deacons give reverence to Pastor Bird.

The service is a short one, a sermon on patience,

but a few rudely exit while the pastor is still preaching.

Closing prayer brings hearty twitters of wish you wells; and fly with God,

as the birds soar away to work for Nature and family.

Left sitting on the wire, the loner is in no hurry.

He’s a bachelor, free to fly at his leisure.

Still, every morning at Bird Church, he prays

to meet the crimson coated bird of his dreams.