Sarah's writing journal

Poetry Thursday!


I know this photograph is a little macabre, but two things have happened to me recently with birds, and I'm feeling fragile as I'm a great believer in signs! Yesterday, looking for tomato plants at a market garden I felt a strange blub on my head but couldn't see anything above me, although when I put my hand to my hair, yes, you've guessed it, a bird had pooped on me. It's never happened before, but my son said it was a good sign. Why, I asked. Well, apparently because it's so bad that nothing else can go quite so badly. Hmmmm, some logic there, I suppose. Secondly, and more disturbingly, I found this little bird foetus on the balcony outside my bedroom window this morning. No sign of a broken egg, nest or anything. It looks perfect but is big - about one and a half inches long - so I can't work out what it might be. It feels rather like the Great Bird Godfather has left me a 'message'.
So in an effort to appease the birds - who I love, by the way - here's a poem for Poetry Thursday from Emily Dickinson, and I'm just off to bury the little chap above in a tissue-lined matchbox as well as filling up the bird feeder in my garden.

I shall keep singing!
Emily Dickinson

I shall keep singing!
Birds will pass me
On their way to Yellower Climes—
Each—with a Robin's expectation—
I—with my Redbreast—
And my Rhymes—
Late—when I take my place in summer—
But—I shall bring a fuller tune—
Vespers—are sweeter than Matins-Signor—
Morning—only the seed of Noon—