Friday, December 29, 2006

The Swallow

"Even the sparrow finds a home there, and the swallow builds her nest and raises her young--at a place near your altar, O Lord Almighty, my King and my God!" (Psalm 84:3)

I soar back and forth
with the breeze,
scanning the wind for flies,
grabbing them as I go.
I search the high places
for just the right spot.
A cave; a cliff; a barn.
I search for safety;
long for security
for myself.
For my children.
Aha!
What is this?
A stone structure!
And it feels just right.
Protected; warm; serene.
Yes. This is it.
I begin right away,
gathering grass blades and horse hairs;
making mud out of dust.
As the afternoon wears on
I’m exhausted,
but strangely content.
Friends have come to help me,
and together we whistle a joyful song.
I found home.

1 comment:

For now... said...

This is a beautiful poem. I want to be one of the friends that whistles a joyful song with you!

Ps 84:3 Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young—a place near your altar,
O LORD Almighty, my King and my God