If Birds Could Talk
By John Herlihy

Some questions stir without being asked;
We sometimes wonder about lifting the mask.
If birds could talk, wouldn’t that be a miracle?
To both listen and hear, thus reaching a pinnacle.
An old man sat by the window with open space,
With a view to the world, such a heavenly place.
Sunrise had come and gone, a curtain drawn,
Birds had announced the arrival of another dawn.
The old man breathed in air in mighty drafts,
Awakening his body, inducing a few quiet laughs.
Only then did he hear the tinkling bird chatter,
Joyful and loud, as if every chirp might matter.

I see you, he heard uttered, I always see you,
The utterance and its echo floating in the blue.
I miss you, he then heard, I will always miss you,
Birds don’t talk, he thought, so far as he knew.
When of a sudden, he heard more frantic chatter,
This was different, something really did matter.
He now listened very carefully, the birds did talk,
Listened to their every word as the cat did stalk.
He’s coming, he heard echoed, he’s now coming.
The words did drift away on the air as a warning.
As I have said, questions stir without any request,
Leaving us with an answer, sung from a bird’s nest.