Sing Bards
about a battle rolling
about a victory so certain
that a thunderbird
waking and humming in its nest
in a cold and damp November break
soon in jubilant tones on a suburb street
praises its coming of age.

The driver, intensely listening
leans forward, then back again
trying to catch
the words within the chords
from his precious gliding bird.

At the toll-station then
getting ready to pay his due
the guard leans forward
smiles and says
"The one just before paid for you."
Only then, he notices the warmth
starting to spread
through his strong and tender
stout and thundering bird.

And then it comes to him
in a sudden flash
that still
just slightly resembles
the force of that gradual shift
when the drops in that heavy mist
one by one, starts to get lit
and he knows
the time for good and decent people
has finally come.

And then he thought
and he thought it out loud:
should we not have to face and feel
the labor pains of the fact
that we all carry a supreme
and wonderful mind?

And it came to him
a ghetto in 1943
there, a group of people
shivering and pale
as the sky there above
and they looked at each other
and then they said
"Just being lead away; away to be murdered."
And then they said
"No way, no way."
And from that moment
never more.

And it came to him
all those people all over
the world
getting killed and used
raped and abused
so often neglected, even selected
and he knows
the time for good and decent people
has finally come.

And it came to him
the immense beauty
of all those people
in that news report
from that oil-spilled and devastated
Louisiana beach
taking a battle stance
so gentle and kind
yet
strong, sturdy and proud

Sing Bards about a battle rolling
about a victory as certain
as the flowers breaking through
the dead poisoned soil
in the month of May.