Category Archives: The Evidentialism Files

The App

The App

I have an app
that listens for birds,
and when one sings,
it tells me
who.

A towhee, it might say,
or a thrush,
or the sharp laugh
of a jay.

But more often,
when I open it—
when I ask the trees
to explain themselves—
they go quiet.

As if they know
I’ve come not to hear,
but to name.

And what does it matter,
the who,
if I miss the what?

So I close it,
set it in my lap,
and listen.

A whistle, a trill,
a rustle, a rapture.

Voices
without identification,
like a party line
from some other world,
where the names don’t matter—
only the joy
of being overheard.

Clicks

Clicks

You are up for any ride,
down for any scheme.

You shoulder morning,
nose-first and heartbeat-wide.

You window the world,
sunstripe eyes glassed in knowing.

No ask, no answer.
Just the yes of being.

You map without compass,
you clock without ticking,
you forgive the wind
as if it were kin.

Trust is not a word to you—
it’s a tail,
a backseat,
a door left open.

You hinge,
you lean,
you happen beside me.

And in that stillness,
you teach me
how to go.

The Sparrow Had A Thought

The Sparrow Had a Thought
(Expanded)

Or maybe it was me.
But either way,
a branch shook,
a wing flinched,
and I remembered
how many kinds of flight
begin in stillness.

There was no music.
No lesson.
No divine interruption—
just the quick tilt
of a feathered body
against the morning,
like punctuation
of a sentence I hadn’t finished.

I almost forgot
to open the door.
But I did.
And the air
smelled like something
I used to believe in.

The bird was gone
by then,
of course.

But the branch
still moved.

And in that small sway
was a question
I didn’t need to answer.
Just feel.
Just carry.