The Lord-God Bird

A sonnet of the ivory-billed woodpecket, thought extinct and recently sighted.

The Lord-God Bird

I am called the Lord-God bird, and
I fly on Pentecostal wings.
By grace, I've been chosen to stand
and not go down to the lost things.
I am a wild and wary bird,
thought long absent from cypress glen.
But in dark swamps my call is heard.
The swamp can hide secrets, my friend.
You mark my flash of red, of black;
I mark your heart's shuddering beat.
Caught in a dance we can't go back,
Entwined by a mystical heat.
"All things carry meaning", you cry.
I spread Pentecostal wings and fly.




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