While Trying to Think of Something to Write About (with edit)
Posted: Mon Mar 15, 2021 1:10 pm
edited version
The first arrival of the season
is winging it in a star pine
on my back hill. I imagine northern songbirds
gather in some South American
jungle for a winter sing-along
and my California mockingbird stopped by
to add a few of this year's numbers.
His mock repertoire pours through my open
door: robin's spring announcement,
a gurgle-trill from redwing blackbirds
that cling to cattails thick in shallow waters,
songs I remember from the woodlands
of a life two thousand miles ago.
Five repeating notes from a Peruvian flute
and background music for kabuki theater.
***********************************************************
The first mockingbird of the season
is winging it in a star pine
on my back hill. I imagine northern
songbirds gather in some South American
jungle for a winter sing-along
and California mockingbirds stop by
to add a few of this year's numbers.
Their mock repertoire pours through my open
door: robin's spring announcement,
a gurgle-trill from redwing blackbirds
that cling to cattails thick in shallow waters,
songs I remember from the woodlands
of a life two thousand miles ago.
Five repeating notes from a Peruvian flute
and background music for kabuki theater.
The first arrival of the season
is winging it in a star pine
on my back hill. I imagine northern songbirds
gather in some South American
jungle for a winter sing-along
and my California mockingbird stopped by
to add a few of this year's numbers.
His mock repertoire pours through my open
door: robin's spring announcement,
a gurgle-trill from redwing blackbirds
that cling to cattails thick in shallow waters,
songs I remember from the woodlands
of a life two thousand miles ago.
Five repeating notes from a Peruvian flute
and background music for kabuki theater.
***********************************************************
The first mockingbird of the season
is winging it in a star pine
on my back hill. I imagine northern
songbirds gather in some South American
jungle for a winter sing-along
and California mockingbirds stop by
to add a few of this year's numbers.
Their mock repertoire pours through my open
door: robin's spring announcement,
a gurgle-trill from redwing blackbirds
that cling to cattails thick in shallow waters,
songs I remember from the woodlands
of a life two thousand miles ago.
Five repeating notes from a Peruvian flute
and background music for kabuki theater.