Where I live I’m not allowed to have bird feeders,
Rules and regulations.
No artifice or begging with food, but the plump small creatures
Flock to my deck in cold and heat.
April 26, 2019,
Vibrant chirping permeates,
The glass doors to my bedroom.
Someone knew I craved the red cardinals and blue jays!
You can’t fight me when I divulge
Who the someone is,
Because it’s not a someone,
And I’m forbidden to say the name in vain.
I would never try to convince you,
The majesty of the birds
Is not manmade;
And what is true, ephemeral, and spiritual
Needs no proof.
Streisand sang, “Don’t Rain on My Parade,”
And I’m singing,
“Tradition, culture, Torah, and Oral law,”
chirp inside the flying ones,
and I pray I will always
acknowledge the true feeder.