Tiny Birds

 

Tiny Birds

(“I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ.” Philippians 3:8)

Passions can become extinct, dying embers of past certainties.
The warmth was only a memory, the friction of feet on asphalt
created the heat. As long as we kept moving the sparks flew
unreviewed, but sure to impress at least the occasional traveler.
Rarely leaving the main road we followed the stripes set before us
as sure as directions drawn on a map. We never looked for moss
on the north side of trees or rocks. Warned that detours were destructive
we stayed on summer highways where mirage snakes kept us company.

But a few of us felt the heat was oppressive. It was old and coal,
it was scorch or chill. We soon lost the color in our cheeks,
the wonder of the breeze, and the other creatures we had left
behind
because they refused to be our kind. We put them in their
own boxes outside and let the sirocco sort it out.

One day someone looked.
She took their eye off the road.
She emptied her pockets of charcoal and dust.
She saw two swallows dance like adolescents
100 feet above in the vibrant blue. Spiraling upwards,
they pierced the sky in precision, swinging within inches
of each other’s bodies, green wings pushing the air behind them.

The same day we all looked up
and saw the two lovers soar to the far corners of the horizon
in a clear sky, vacant except for their celestial display. Circling
our peripheral vision, they were barely spots as they
swung around the invisible center. The radius between them
decreased as they glided, the air guiding their elegant ballet.
We lost track that day of everything, except two tiny
swallows that captured all

We had ever wanted.

We had walked face-first, fallen full speed
into the dark. We lost our way in our birdwatching,

And wondered if it was better to be
tiny birds
with a joyous song.