Orchard

Between the red and the green
birds balance on railings and sing,
between Eden and Gethsimine.
Easy for them, they have no shoes.
Sometimes we pity the shoeless,
not them, but if it were us.
When our shoes pinch, we sing higher.
We say to our children Look at the bird,
but don't compete in song or flight.
Somewhere between the orchard
and the road, we fall,
and birds that pick holes in our apples
take our screams for song.

Copyright © 2009 Noel Conneely All rights reserved
from The Main Street Rag
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission