A Psalm of Birds

Suzanne U Clark*

I sing to the Maker of trillers,

the Crafter of wormers and gliders

for the cardinal singing in spurts with head aflame

and the woodpecker banging his blood-dipped skull for hours,

the mourning dove in her nest like a cup in a saucer,

her dark, wet eyes beholding the sky through ivy;

the turkey vulture, skinhead in tattered sleeves

floating high over trash. The starling

with gyrical whistles and whiz-bangs

who wears a spangled suit and sheds disease;

the wren with tail cocked like an exclamation point

as he dashes from dogwood to ash and flutes loud tunes.

The pigeon with liquid neck, the buzzing nighthawk

that sits like a gravy boat; the uniformed jay policing

the pines, the chickadee sawing her fiddle, the raven

hoarse from speeches, the junco jingling silver,

the song sparrow spouting tremolos;

the swallow, high above all, on shivering wings

searching the sides at dusk for an open window.

* Suzanne U. Clark has taught writing and literature at King College and to home-schooled students.

Copyright Anglican Theological Review, Inc. Winter 1998
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