Megan Hutchinson
Hymns rang out from the university bell tower
at each turn of the hour. “Rock of Ages”
echoed off the vacant marble halls
and sent pigeons flying from the rafters.
“Sweet Hour of Prayer” stirred a squirrel’s slumber
in a red oak tree on Cherry Hall’s main lawn.
“Immortal, Invisible” rippled
the surface
of a stagnant fountain
where the statue of Hebe tilted
an empty cup to the cherubs beneath her.
None but a lone mourning dove
lifted its somber voice to “Blest Be the Tie
That Binds,” as it perched upon a telephone line above
the closed shops
on College and State,
“Stay Home, Stay Safe”
painted on their windows.
The woven notes tolled
through the city
like a plea.
Holy, holy, holy, warbled a robin
in response, clutching a lingering holly berry in its beak,
and It is well with my soul trilled an oriole
from the cool mouth of a chimney.
At last, a great horned owl, deep-voiced and rising
from the edge of the wood, called
This is my Father’s world.
A colony of eastern cottontails
peeked out from their mossy burrow
and a scurry of squirrels paused
on a trembling beech limb.
And to my listening ears, they chimed.
All nature sings, and round me rings
The music of the spheres.
They raised their voices
though no one could hear, no one could see
from inside stuffy apartments,
too afraid to breathe the toxic air,
much less sing to the heavens.
Together, like one booming voice,
they chanted the final lyrics,
This is my Father’s world:
Why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King: let the heavens ring!
God reigns; let earth be glad!
Then, amid the jubilee, a squirrel as white
as the long-thawed winter
snows appeared,
perched on Hebe’s bowing head, and from her cup poured
the sweetest water their parched mouths had tasted.
