This is me in here
trapped, tragic and tearing
out life in words
worlds whittled
out from sadness
out into the dark from light
out from my hand
out like a melody
from the tree
from which robins sing.

I speak the language of birds
calamitous
harmony in my happiness
when I am alone always
beneath the tree
fielded and frankly forgotten
with no other human in sight
I can breathe
finally
breathe out dreams
and this is me this is really
me.

In a moment all at once
all together the birds
leave on impulse
a unified cluster arcing over the
wide wondering blue
shimmering singing
painting my sky with wings
powering through the air
cutting like a
whispering wind
and I laugh and take joy
as in a moment I realize
that this is the sound of
God
and if he smiles at all
then this is him
smiling.