The feathered Eucharist

Happy are these birds above who

never have to go to mass.

Happy fragile feathered things with

light not stained by glass.

Blessed are they beak and claw; their air

Is ever sacred.

Blessed be their treetop temple, each twig

a flying arch.

And sacred is each song that choirs

from sparrows or from larks.

Happy are these crows and cranes

Whose Eucharist is endless.

And may the vaulted holy sky

Be full of wings as birds fly by

On their way to ruffled worship.

(With thanks to Juan Raman Jimenez, ‘The Silversmith and I’.)