Those birds outside your window at dawn br singing all at once fit to bust – br br did you know they migrate from Islam br in the fighting season? br br They’re all Sufis: they sleep all night br with the Beloved; and in the morning br br they exchange the jokes they heard, br the pillow talk from the night before sleep; br br then the blackbird and the thrush br weave these into stories which they sing br br all day; then at night the nightingale br makes them all into one beautiful poem br br about being intoxicated into song br by the wine of Shiraz; the rose-water wafers; br br and how those who say br that one cannot be intoxicated br br by the longing for the One br have proved themselves wrong br br and proved the nightingale right br as you can know in yourself br br when the nightingale sings of this br to the heart’s light pulsing in the stars.