In search of story

March 13.22: Coping, but barely


A robin skims the frosty grass,

stopping, starting, stopping;

the housefinch goes a-nesting,

pecking, pulling, hopping.

The chickadee, bright eye on me,

zigzags in spritely play;

the sun, at rise and setting,

is chirped along its way.

As winter’s bony grip

reluctantly lets go,

songbirds return a-twitter

in growing crescendo.

Far away in birddom

the elders meet en masse,

solemn, introspective,

with all due gravitas.

Somber-visaged sages,

exchanging thought and word,

they ponder and deliberate

what it means to be a bird.

The enigma of horizon,

the mystery of skies

inform their academia

as they Socratize.

Music quite eludes them

but they don’t think it wrong

that others ponder being

in transiency of song.

More thanks to photographer S.W. Berg.

And, of course, to the pelicans.

15 thoughts on “March 13.22: Coping, but barely

  1. We, elders, do ponder but still can’t figure out a lot of what is surrounding us today. I imagine the birds will stay away from us humans and maintain their bird’s eye view of things because it is safer and more sane. 🙂

    • You are so right: we elders sure are mind-boggled, and if we were birds we’d fly far away from the insanities. But then I wonder if we could fly far enough — I fear there is no getting away. The more I ponder the less I understand and the more weary I feel. And now I must spend today wondering what time it is. Thanks for taking the time to commiserate, Judy.

  2. Amen to that! This time change helps not at all.

  3. This time change thing messed me up–I slept in until 8:10. 8:10!! That’s so late. Husband hears me and says, “Well, yesterday it would have been 7:10.” Blank look. What in the holy heck is that supposed to mean…

    • I have to confess I laughed. But in total sympathy, of course. Today I think a lot of “If I had a hammer” as I look at each clock in my house.

  4. Spring forward, Fall back: it’s such nonsense, what the heck. (My silly attempt at a rhyme :-D)
    As you pointed out, winter reluctantly lets go. So I escape right into the garden: getting lost, finding peace, tranquility and joy with every new bit of green that’s coming out.

    • Oh, yes, that is exactly where one should escape to when winter lets go! We’re not there yet but maybe soon. As for your rhyme, I like it!

  5. This poem is awesome. Honestly, find someone to illustrate every 10th page or so (illustrations are expensive to print) and publish a collection. Please!

  6. Winter has been putting up a strong fight at the end here. When we take our dog out first thing in the morning, I think the birds are laughing at us for being up so early. It’s like we don’t understand the workings of nature. In any case, you captured this all very well. I enjoy your poetry.

  7. One of my favourites. You made me smile with ‘Music quite eludes them’. It is a stretch to call some of it birdsong.

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