The day explodes with light
and many a robin aria;
twinkling dew engirds
dandelion luminaria.
Wishing you some form of light,
dear reader,
in this new month.
Tag Archives: birdsong
March 16.19
Somewhere in this barrenness
a quickening song is sung
I look hard but cannot tell
where it’s coming from
I cannot see a bird
so could it be the tree
trilling spring’s first music
coloraturally?
Connections: May 5.18
Accusing, narrowed eye,
disapproving glare,
prunish dour expression,
unblinking fiendish stare.
Beneath those rosy feathers
curmudgeon’s heart must beat —
how does such a malcontent
warble song so sweet?
Connections: February 8.17
The other day I happened upon
a forum on NPR
a rabbi’s words illumined
a mood as black as tar:
when optimism can’t be had
we must insist on hope,
and keep in mind the difference
as we walk this slippery slope.
I opened the window this morning
Die Zauberflöte silvered the air!
the crimson Papageno,
the high-headed Chanticleer!
Corny it may be
but I need to think it so
the return of morning birdsong
as rabbinical treetop echo.
Connections: June 5
Is this why birdsong?
Because in some Olympian die
copper clouds are forged?
What else to do but sing and fly?
