When Solomon was born, birds came soaring,
waddling, swimming, flapping around the air.
They cheeped and honked to celebrate the day;
a few chipped in to give him a layette—
eiderdown, eggs, and less-appetizing things.
Ad hoc solidarity to honor
David’s gilt- and purple-bundled heir:
pterosaur, canary, cassowary,
hummingbirds flanked by a pair of penguins sweating
fishily—everyone who could fly was there.
They waited—jostled—shoved at the nursery door—
brawled, guano flying; everywhere
blood, owl pellets, drifts of white duvet,
gamboge splots of yolk on the baby’s blanket.
All they had in common was their wings.
—Deborah Warren
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Does Just War Doctrine Require Moral Certainty?
Pope Leo XIV has made it clear that the U.S. war on Iran does not, in his…
The Church of David Bowie
David Bowie and the Search for Life, Death and Godby peter ormerodbloomsbury, 256 pages, $28 Thirty-four years…
Finding a Pulse
Trueman’s new book, The Desecration of Man, should further cement his authority. It supplements, focuses, and in…
