WindRavenX
(1000+ posts)
Send PM |
Profile |
Ignore
|
Sun Jun-05-05 06:38 PM
Original message |
|
Edited on Sun Jun-05-05 06:39 PM by WindRavenX
It was hot that day even so early in the day. I remember walking on the cracked sidewalk and feeling how heavy and saturated the air was with the scent of warm grass and the still water that gathered in shallow pools at the feet of the great trees that ran along the path. And I remember those emerald topped trees that early summer day on campus watching the shimmering sparrows, jays, starlings, chickadees explode from the branches in screaming ecstasy and fade into the welcoming blue. I paused, cloaked in the cool shade and saw a silent one at the edge of one of the pools. He did not sing; move a feather. He merely sat, his long throat feathers dripping into the warm water. Little bird-- Why do you not soar in the light? I can see your ruby throat from even here-- It must shine beautifully should you go to the light. And surely your song must put my soft and fleshy kin to shame. Why do you sit there? I love you, little bird. I do not want you to hide in the shadows where with the sun you shall be lost. For no eyes will bare witness to your splendor.
|
Droopy
(1000+ posts)
Send PM |
Profile |
Ignore
|
Tue Jun-07-05 12:42 AM
Response to Original message |
|
It reminds of some of the mid 19th century poetry that I've read. Walt Whitman comes to mind. A lot of the poets from that era sang the praises of nature. Good work.
|
superconnected
(1000+ posts)
Send PM |
Profile |
Ignore
|
Fri Jun-10-05 06:12 PM
Response to Original message |
| 2. I enjoy this poem, it puts me there. |
DU
AdBot (1000+ posts) |
Sun Oct 26th 2025, 02:49 PM
Response to Original message |