What are they saying, the birds
coasting at sunset, getting ready for bed,
dive-bombing into darkened trees where you heard
them fold their wings, or is that in your head?
Coasting at sunset, almost ready for bed,
their spread wings fan out, shadowing earth,
preening their wings—also in your head?—
soft feathers embracing the nest beneath,
their spread wings shadow the earth.
Asleep, their quiet breathing the music of heaven,
belly feathers embracing the nest beneath.
Why not reinvent earth as continual even-
song, small singers calling it a night,
nesting in the blackened trees where you heard
them chirp, trill, chuckle, and turn off the light.
What are they trying to say, the birds?
—Peggy R. Ellsberg
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Bladee’s Redemptive Rap
Georg Friedrich Philipp von Hardenberg, better known by his pen name Novalis, died at the age of…
Postliberalism and Theology
After my musings about postliberalism went to the press last month (“What Does “Postliberalism” Mean?”, January 2026),…
Nuns Don’t Want to Be Priests
Sixty-four percent of American Catholics say the Church should allow women to be ordained as priests, according…
