Paul Klee drew a twittering machine
Made of twigs and branches, nothing green–
Happy tiny birds sit singing there,
Sending their sweet music to the air.
Just this morning, as I stood awaking,
Cranking open blinds with daylight breaking,
In the half-dead evergreens, up high,
Our own flock of juncoes sat nearby.
It was early; singing hadn’t started,
But as I stood watching, curtains parted,
Every tiny grey-clothed creature preening
Feathers, head and foot, for morning cleaning.
Not one startled seeing me so near,
Their comfort with my presence became clear–
These are the creatures with me, after all,
All summer in the gardens until fall.
They seemed to know I am as eager to
Start planting as they are to follow through
The gardens as we move always together
Through weeks and months of welcome warmer weather.
Their pointed faces made me laugh as they
Seemed to invite me to come out and play,
As soon I will, then giving up my words
In favor of communion with the birds.