In Another Life

It was the mango-colored canaries that drew my attention. I counted six of them. Each bird was in its own small, cramped wooden cage, and each cage was hung at intervals all the way around the courtyard walls of the village hotel. In spite of their confinement, each bird was chirping an exuberant song. Perhaps they were re-telling the history of their species and the freedom of the skies they once enjoyed. Or perhaps they sang of the future when one day they might feel the wind currents through their wings and soar over the heights of pyramids again.

                                                        old wooden cross -
                                                        seeds sprout
                                                        in its shadow