What if?

What if?

What if the birds
put the word out
that three of the past five
summers
have been different
around here?

Nests burned
fledglings perished
and cries from fleeing fauna
and flaming flora
left indelible impressions
on avian brains.

So they put the word out.

To those who migrate:
don’t return. Find another, safer place to summer.
To natives:
move on. It’s impossible to breathe here in the smoke.

What if bossy, noisy stellar jays stopped coming?
What if robins no longer heralded spring?
What if the red feeders we hang in front of our windows
became barren decorations
that we took down
washed
and put away?

Thanks so much for stopping by. I'm here early most mornings with one of my photos and a few words about life and those thin places where faith intersects.
1 comment
  1. Very movingly expressed. What if, indeed …

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.