December 25th

The birds on Christmas morning
are never on their knees,
they are not seen adorning
their nests with filigrees;
they do not care how nature works
nor look for special Christmas perks.

They play their role in nature
without our kind of fuss,
they worship no Creator,
they’re not at all like us;
they have it all, don’t need to go
gathering holly and mistletoe.

Oh, enviable bird! On
what impulse do you call?
You scorn the human burden
of why we’re here at all.
Our carols fade against your song.
In God’s name – where did we go wrong?