The Plumed Praises
by Karen Christopher

What religion is a songbird?
For I can hear them chanting out a capturing melody every morning
Casting a mystical aura over the hazy golden dawn
Do they praise the sun god Ra?
Are they lifting their tiny beaks to God? Or Allah?
Whatever the reason, they fly to their tall wooden temples to worship the unknown
Sending a mystery through the green stained glass windows of their vertical cathedrals
Fluttering them like feathers
Their notes cut a hole in the sunrise so their nameless deities will hear their eulogizing cry
That melts into sunbeams and shatters the dew like glass pearls

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Poem Copyright 2002 by Karen Christopher


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