Under grey, heavy skies,
The birds sing their morning songs,
Undeterred, unfettered, unburdened.
Oh, may I be like the birds,
Lifting my voice in the joy of being alive.
Lifting my eyes to the clouds and
Seeing through them to the sun.
Lifting my heart beyond my cares,
My worries for the world.
May I trust Julian's words
Engraved around my wrist:
'All shall be well, All shall be well,
And all manner of thing shall be well.'
May I be like the birds raising their songs
So high, I swear the clouds shift.
If faith can move mountains, surely
Birdsong can lift banks of cloud?