Thursday, April 21, 2016

Blog Exodus Day 13: Accept

Brief Eden

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For part of one strange year we lived 
in a small house at the edge of a wood. 
No neighbors, which suited us. Nobody 
to ask questions. Except 
for the one big question we went on 
asking ourselves.
                         That spring 
myriads of birds stopped over
briefly. Birds we’d never seen before, drawn 
to our leafy quiet and our brook and because, 
as we later learned, the place lay beneath 
a flyway. Flocks appeared overnight—birds 
brilliant or dull, with sharp beaks
or crossed bills, birds small 
and enormous, all of them pausing 
to gorge at the feeder, to rest their wings, 
and disappear. Each flock seemed surer than we 
of a destination. By the time we’d watched them 
wing north in spring, then make 
an anxious autumn return, 
we too had pulled it together and we too moved 
into what seemed to be our lives.

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