Homily for Bird Land


The pastor pulls down, yin yang on the belfry rope.
300 sea gulls in an alfalfa field face east and say, aaowwh.

Avocets are envelopes opening and closing, white and black tithes
cast over the pond. After ping pong we hug.

Hummingbirds sip honey from the book.

Waxwing murmurer, rose hip rosary beads, rain drops
on the back of your neck. My wings roll away from the inquisitor.