Birdsong

starling

(starling: internet photo)

Little songbird pretends to be a cat.
Shadow of an eagle looms overhead,
peacock plumage in the trash.

Caw of a crow,
magpie screech,
you search for your sound.
Whistle of a robin,
chatter of a chick-a-dee,
what will be your melody?

Wind gusts an arrow at your throat.
A bruised song unburdens.
A ripple courses through the leaves.
Spiders glint on diamond webs.

Love rings your little beak.

Fletched feathers of your arrow
shatter the fake cat.
Your chirp roars.

Spontaneous Aria

finca-draculas-beautiful-gardens-cerro-puntaThe photo is from the Beautiful Garden website. It is where I imagine the birdsong I heard would originate 🙂

(This post is dedicated to my dear friend Betty)

Today when I was out for a run
I wished you were there
to inform and enlighten me
as to which of our feathered friends originated
the alluring melody I heard

I thought you would know it in an instant!
My knowledge of birds is so limited
I can recognize the haunting call of a loon
at dusk or dawn
I know the repetitive chick-a-dee-dee-dee

This afternoon I was an uninvited witness
to a bewitching love warble
no bird was seen
not even the fleetest glimpse of plumage

When the achingly enthralling song began
city din was drowned out
no strolling pedestrian chatter
no traffic hum or passing train roar

The musical tenor was so pure
I was transported through time
to an era of innocence, enveloped by love

My breath caught
my heart was pierced by the sheer elegance of the cadence
I strained to hear more
but was left disappointed

I would have to settle for the brief solo performance
No encore was forthcoming

Spring Morning

There is a golden glow
to the pale blue cloudless sky
green buds, barely visible,
peak from branches
checking for any traces of snow
in the air
cautiously optimistic
that spring has finally arrived

Nature concurs
she has not yet burst forth
with colorful flowers and full foliage
but daintily hints at spring
with delicate green blades
in a field of straw colored grass
soft, mauve crocuses scattered here and there
on barren hillsides

Robins have returned
sweet bird song greets the new day