After the Birds: Home

Birds know the way home,
the door that has their name or 
how to sing it into existence, if lost.

Through it they find each other
even in a burning world—
they find their being.

 And in that last lost sky
they sing it into their feet,
combine it with the dirt’s prophecy.

Look up in the sky, at the birds 
and praise these passerine who 
can sing open doors we cannot.

The treaty they have made with 
the sky includes us for they 
treasure the world’s wholeness.