More poetry this week, but it’s more of the feel good variety. (I’ve never thought of the people that birds fly over; now I always will.) Naomi Shihab Nye is a favorite.


Messages from Everywhere

light up our backyard.
A bird that flew five thousand miles
is trilling six bright notes.
This bird flew over mountains and valleys
and tiny dolls and pencils
of children I will never see.
Because this bird is singing to me,
I belong to the wide wind,
the people far away who share
the air and the clouds.
Together we are looking up
into all we do not own
and we are listening.

Naomi Shihab Nye,
from Everything Comes Next, 1994