April 28, 2019 Brad Peebler


When the modern world gets too crowded for me,

And all I want to do is escape,

Escape to a place where I can watch my friends live and grow,

I follow the Chickadee.

When the tools of today go past my knowledge,

When I don’t understand the modern technology,

And I want to build a house with sticks,

I follow the Chickadee.

When the polluted air and bustling streets fill my head,

And I am drowned in the complicated world we built,

When I want to go back to a simple life,

I follow the Chickadee.

I follow the Chickadee to a place

Where animals are my companions.

Trees, not buildings, surround me;

They reach high in the sky, taller than the tallest skyscraper.

I follow the Chickadee to a place

Where I can drink from a stream with no worries.

And watch a deer drink beside me,

Then it lift its wet muzzle from the water to look at me

I follow the Chickadee to a place where flowers bloom in spring,

And birds build nests in tall trees.

I follow the Chickadee to a better place,

To a place that shows what the world once was.

The Chickadee shows me Scarlet Columbines,

Drooping flowers that look down at the ground,

To watch the yellow-spotted Clown Millipede,

Scuttle next to the long-legged spiders.

The Chickadee shows me Trilliums that litter the moss-covered floor,

Their long stems reach up to the sky,

Where Red-Tailed Hawks weave in between the clouds,

Their powerful tails are set on fire by the sun.

The Chickadee shows me cool breezes that rush through the trees,

Like waves crashing over my head,

Waving the long, twisting branches of the Willows,

And rippling the crystal water of the sparkling lake.

The Chickadee shows me Golden-Crowned Sparrows,

Singing their pretty song,

Their young cheep and twitter as they beg for food,

They are not yet out of the intricate nest their mother built.

The Chickadee shows me the California Towhees alarming,

When a Bobcat struts through the field.

The Bobcat’s shining pelt is warm from the sun.

He pads along on delicate paws, taunting the Towhees.

The sun drops down in the darkening sky,

Deep purples and oranges follow.

As the stars pop out, the forest is silent.

The constellations say words in a language I don’t understand.

But the Chickadee does,

as he sings a song to fill the quiet forest with sound.