Will the birds remember me, when my garden runs to ruin?
The grapevines wild and rambling free, the trees
So wide and beckoning, I will be
Standing in a shadow of a kingdom’s come,
And birds, my friends of fair weather, passing
As wind and rains roll on, my friends who come
They take what they need and then fly on
And I stand at the window, watching them wrestling
For a place to stand among the powerlines
Do they know how much I love them?
Do they know the quiet glow of joy unwind,
With the cardinals’ flash of red and pigeons’ waddling zen,
In some shadow kingdom, the eye of god will be a bird
And it will, indifferent to me, speak a single word.
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