Four pelicans

Glide white wings through azure sky

beneath a morning moon,

soaring.

They were just

paddling a tight circle on a small clear lake, fishing,

Moments ago.

 

Human angels against

A backdrop of hate

Raised white linen wings fashioned for protection

To shield hearts shattered from grief

From a raw harshness yet part of this world

Just last week.

They filter in to my thoughts

And a few tears well up, grateful

We have Creator’s original blueprints of beauty

 

White pelicans against a cerulean sky, a teacup moon

 

To inspire us

To bravely block

unfathomable

sickening

Disregard of pain and suffering.

 

I walk through a dozen different grasses,

Below this miracle sky on rolling prairie –

Studded with deep blue stalks of delphinium, purple penstemon

yucca, mullein, nodding Mexican hat.

Red winged blackbirds, bobolink, meadowlark

Open up slender throats

And sing out loudly

Their gorgeous, original songs.

Notes we can identify, consistent and true, over years and decades,

Stepping through our histories of love and hate

And indifference

Eyes open

Or closed.

Such a stir of love I feel

For these birds, these songs,

These flowers upon my path.

I’ll fold them into memory

As an anecdote

For these times, and the times ahead

in which we live.