Little Throats and Feathers

I worry about my life at times,
that I’ve not built an orphanage overseas
or speak with marqueed frequency on
platforms warmed with light.
Jesus said when tempted to worry
about such things to behold the birds.
That’s what he said. Birds.
And so in those times I rub my senses
clear and wait for the singing.
I confess more often than not I have eyes
that cannot see. But I hear them and
I am always astonished by the miracle
of the little throats and feathers.
 
 
 
 
 

Subscribe to Blog via Email

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 1,028 other subscribers

10 Comments

  1. sandyjustin on September 11, 2014 at 12:40 pm

    My favorite yet!

    >

  2. michelemorin on September 11, 2014 at 12:50 pm

    I’ve always thought of Jesus’ words referring to matters of provision and possession rather than notoriety and accomplishment, but I see that you have made an important point. Thanks for your good thoughts.

    • thebeautifuldue on September 11, 2014 at 1:36 pm

      Oh I think you’re right, Michele…its just in the junkyard of my head it all gets mixed up. Have a very good day!

  3. mike graves on September 11, 2014 at 1:06 pm

    I suggest going to youtube to hear “White Bird”,by the band Its A Beautiful Day
    God bless your folks john

  4. Susie Finkbeiner on September 11, 2014 at 2:26 pm

    Good words for this girl today. Thank you, John.

  5. Shaun C. on September 11, 2014 at 4:25 pm

    Thank you for this. Your poem reminds of a great Wendell Berry poem, The Peace of Wild Things. They both make me think of Jesus’ words about worry. http://www.gratefulness.org/poetry/peace_of_wild_things.htm

  6. pastordt on September 12, 2014 at 12:15 am

    ah, yes – those birds. thank GOD for them – they are our teachers in so many ways. Thanks, John.

  7. Brandee Shafer on September 12, 2014 at 12:46 am

    I think we’re called to do all sort of Kingdom work, also that many people who build orphanages do not write poetry that travels into the living room of my log cabin in the woods.

Leave a Comment