Absolution

Tell me, are you amazed
at the African mud swallow
which builds its tiny nest
on the sides of tall reeds
and to the out-facing bowl
glues its precarious eggs
from which chicks emerge
and instinctively fathom flight
—must fly now, or drown—
and, knowing this to be true,
and unsurprised at the insane
artistry of massed starlings
or the balance of goats
on sheer Libyan cliffs
or the symbiotic relation
of goldenrod and aster,
do you, in your wisdom,
label peacocks narcissists
or pity the mallard hen
who habitually services
the plumed abusive drake?
There are no better angels
of our nature than these.