Where I live I’m not allowed to have bird feeders,Rules and regulations.No artifice or begging with food, but the plump small creaturesFlock to my deck in cold and heat.
April 26, 2019,Morning,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 divulgeWho 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 birdsIs not manmade;And what is true, ephemeral, and spiritualNeeds 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 alwaysacknowledge the true feeder.