Birdsong
competes with the fluorescents’ buzz
the cold concrete risers of the underground parking lot
emitting tweets and chirps
the call and response
of barn swallows
safe from predators and the Pacific arctic air
chilling all the inhabitants of this usually moderate climate
bipeds scurrying despite featherlite down plumage.
I stand silent
in this improbable sanctuary
recite lines reserved for holy places
wonder if I, too, have built my nest
among concrete beams and pilings
my song indistinct from the hum of idling engines
wind song, squirrel chatter and the high-pitched trill of least weasels
the soundtrack of memory
when my ancestors perched in the lush tree canopy
of prairies, marshes and forests.
Caged birds may sing of freedom
adapt to the protective grid of our walls and girders
but as I emerge from the parking garage
to the bright light of this New Year’s morn
I turn my face to the wind
my eyes water from the cold
free enough now
to sing out my captivity.
Love this! Happy New Year!