Signs

All around the city

sparrows fell.

Pigeons lay like litter

in the streets.

That's what it took

to make us stop, look

up and think

about

the end.

Is this how

it begins?

Not with a bang

but a flutter? When I came

across the turkey on

the north fork trail

I wondered

how long

we’d have.

The clouds hung

low, like dirty cotton,

a nagging ache

behind my brow.

I squinted against winter’s

stubborn glare.

Is it too bright? Or is it

darker now than ever?

If God’s eye

is on the sparrow,

where is his ear?

Is he listening?

A thousand

thousand feathers fall

like prayers from the sky.

Silence.

~ Elodie Pritchartt

17, May, 2007