The black crow
Will come and go.
This I know
‘Twas always so.
Crow
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Tag Archives: birds
Warbling
Listening to commercial radio
The warblers come and go.
Photogenic girls fill my brain
With the same
Or similar sound.
Autumn leaves strew the ground.
I reach for the off switch.
Oh what bliss!
In the garden a bird calls.
Leaves whirl and fall
And the warbling is lost, beyond recall.
Listening To The Morning
The sun on my bookcase.
Books, their plain binding suffused with light.
Cars pass.
The song of the bird, here then gone.
The traffic continues on
Swishing as the great tide
That ebbs and flows.
The bird sings again
Competing with the vehicles noise (and winning)!
A crow khaws once.
A woodpecker joins in.
9:40, sitting at my computer, listening to the morning.
Writing
The bird he speaks to me of wasted time
of how I labour inside when the weather is fine.
The dog rolls on his back, paws in the air
For my writing he does not care.
The sky it darkens in the west.
I cease my toil, that is best.
Evening Blackbird
A blackbird, as dark falls, singing in the park. Each note a dagger thrust into my heart.
His voice carried on the darkening air, still he trills without a care.
Oh tis to profound, cease your song lest I drown.
Sometimes
Sometimes the wind catches me unawares. A gust of pure delight blowing away useless thought. Just the wind and I, old friends together.
On occasions birdsong stills my brain. Simply the birds and I soaring high.
Sometimes …
26 March 2015
A cold spring day
All this will fade away.
No birds to be heard
Only the sound of traffic going somewhere
Have I Not Reason To Lament What Man Has Made Of Man
The wind gusts and a bird in a tree above my head sings. It is a wonderful windswept day in the environs of Crystal Palace. yet in France, in the past week fanatics with hate in their hearts have committed atrocities. None the less the bird still pours out his soul. The poignant singing gladdening and tearing my heart apart simultaneously.
Blackbird
The singing of a blackbird stops me dead in my tracks. Enraptured by his music I stand wallowing in beauty.
The cloak of evening softly creeps over the land. His music continues and still I stand.
“Are you OK?” a voice, as from another world asks.
“Yes” I reply.
The magic broken I go on my way.
He, later to family perhaps,
“I saw a strange man today. He stood, head cocked, listening to I know not what”.
Beach
I see you, bare feet leaving traces in the damp sand.
Lost in beauty, you watch the gulls as they wheel and cry.
The salt sea caresses your sun kissed skin.
The birds continue to scream overhead.
The sceen overpowers, your tears mingle and are lost in the great atlantic.
In my dreams I glimpse you, a girl walking along the beach.
K Morris - Poet 