Too Heavy for Birds

 There are birds outside 
in the blue sky. There are birds
on the ground.

Juncos, warblers, sparrows, 
finches, nuthatches, chickadees.
The solemn birds of winter,
the wings of beauty to the sky.

Shouldn't my thoughts go with them?
Let them carry away my heart?
But my heart is with strangers--

a nineteen-year-old organ donor,
twin toddlers looking up through water,
an eleven-year-old slipping quietly
into cold, eternal sleep.

My heart has cause for joy
but chooses grief--
not virtuous, only confused--
and much too heavy for birds.