Yes, the sparrows sing in the rain
because they adore the unattainable.
They welcome harshness coming afterwards
when the temperature either dips down
or increases, by ten degrees of misery.
Sparrows sing because joy is misery’s twin
and they recognize both like feathers
with or without rain. They sing from branches,
hidden like all great secrets are hidden
and must be searched vigorously.
Their white throats know only release of music
and profound love. They understand music
is given to those who profess. And if they fail,
it is because life had failed them, or if rain
was not long enough, short as pinfeathers.
Rain is giving them what they need. The air
is a great provider. The sky tells: change comes
and goes. Smack of rain is decisive song choices.
To the un-listening ear, there is no difference
between before, during, or after rain,
but I have heard the high chattering
and the calm later. I heard the grateful urges
like crocus opening like an aria. I have heard
worms moving out of the soil as ground swells
with rain, and the excitement of sparrows
to see what has been delivered in exchange
for their unsolicited praise. Yes, it rains
birdsongs. Yes, the sparrows flock in numbers
singing Ode To Joy. Yes, said Beethoven,
that is exactly what God wants from us and
how God rewards us, as his deaf ears filled
with white feathery rainwater. This is how I feel
waking up next to my wife each morning.
Editor’s Note: Music and poetry have a long history of hidden moments together, and sometimes the same bed holds both music and birds.
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