Welcoming the Stranger

They passed through silently,

stealthily,

foraging for nourishment,
not knowing

I was watching.

On their way to Cuba, to Haiti and the Dominican Republic,

to Belize, to Honduras and Nicaragua,

and the mountains of Mexico,

days and days will they travel the skies,
feeding and sleeping 

in hopes of safety, 
against all odds, 

in hopes of arriving.

That they alight here at all is

a mutual gift, 

for them, sustenance among 
the flowers and the old apple tree,

for me,
the sheer delight of their
presence. 

I will never wing my way to
their destinations

and yet,
still,
I participate in

their journeys

in the planting,
in the loving,

in the gratitude.