…One Sunday, many weeks later, the birds were on their way to church when they saw something in the sky. They find the sermons to be a great source of comfort and inspiration. There, they enter their houses and they eat their Sunday dinners and they talk or they watch TV.Įvery Sunday, the birds attend their church. And then they walk, travelling over hill and over dale, down the winding pathway to the bird village. Then, the service being over, all the birds slowly file out of their wooden pews. Then a small basket is passed around, collecting dollar bills and loose change. “Amen, amen, amen!” the congregation says, for they know this speech by heart, for some variant of it is delivered every Sunday. Then, winding up to the end of his oration, he puffs out his chest and says, “We are birds, we are birds, and birds are creatures of the air the ineffable lovely air! Always remember this, for we are birds!” “Testify, brother!” says a lone voice from the back of the room. Then he says: “We are birds, and birds can fly!” Then he clears his throat and addresses his congregation. The bird preacher makes a dramatic gesture. Then, the bird preacher enters the room, using a small door behind the main altar. Gravely, silently, they file into the church and find their way to their seats in the wooden church pews.
Starlings, eagles, pigeons, sparrows, blackbirds, ducks, geese, and so on.
Every Sunday, the birds go to their bird church. (With apologies to Søren Kierkegaard.) U.S.
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