The Chat

I wish

I were

the yellow chat

down in the thickets

who sings all night,

throwing

into the air

praises

and pandhandles,

plains,

in curly phrases,

half-rhymes,

free verse too,

with head-dipping

and wing-wringing,

with soft breast

rising into the air-

meek and sleek,

broadcasting,

with no time out

for pillow-rest,

everything-

pathos,

thanks-

Oh, Lord,

what a lesson

you send me

as I stand

listening

to your rattling, swamp-loving chat

singing

of his simple, leafy life-

how I would like to sing to you

all night

in the dark

just like that.

A brief song came to me in dreams last night. There were three solitary birds - a parrot companion long gone, a budgerigar (small parakeet) and a raven. They did not know each other, but upon seeing one another they would not leave each other's side. I had thought that they would hurt each other, so great their size differential. Instead, where one walked or flew, so went the other two - caring, loving, protective. The lasting feeling this morning is of eternal companionship. I awoke with no answers, just with a thirst to sing in the darkness of the pathos and tragedy of our world.

What song do you sing in the morning? In the night?