The Pious Sparrows

Birds congregate in their rising wooden pews
As they sing their praises skyward
To yet another rising sun
They have woken with the dawn
To worship the light that breaks the shadowed heavens
Every night they wait with baited breaths
Hoping the darkness will end
They arise to chirp, thankful for another day
Of daily scraps of bread and wiggly worms to pull from emerald fields
The pious sparrows wake the weary,
Shuttered and blinded to the horizon ablaze
They roll over, groaning for just one more hour without disturbance
From man or creature
Eyes gummed with sleep
He mocks the day as most unnatural
Curse these birds that sing in worship
They wish of night and dreams
Unfettered by boundaries and rules
A king of their minds
They grasp helplessly at the path inward
Birds take to the air in nature’s golden glory
While men only fly in the land of illusion
But day will come to pierce and deflate fantasy
Until the day when man will wake no more