These diminutive creatures that so briefly rest
upon the holly tree outside my window;
they are many, their song is brave,
yet they are as tiny as a baby’s breath.
As I watch them dart from branch to branch,
my heart is calmed, my tears cease
and I know this one thing:
if I were to die in this moment I would miss the birds.
Something about them gives me hope;
mighty beyond their size, mighty because of their size.
So much life – a heart beating fiercely
inside a chest the size of a walnut.
Crying and bird watching are not conducive.
Tears slow the speed required to track each swift and precious movement;
the impish tilt of a head, the blink of a shimmering eye,
the fervent dance among the holly…
And then they are gone,
they leave behind them the testimony of God;
for only God could conceive of such a thing as these
magical creatures whom, on silent wings,
glide easily through my window
to nest within my heart.