Yesterday evening on the way home from a restaurant , with my friend Jeff, he and I where delighted by the singing of a blackbird. There he sat atop an urban chimney in the heart of Crystal Palace singing fit to burst. His singing filled that busy street with music and he made me feel life coursing through my veins. Beauty in the heart of the city.
This tree lined street, this gentle breeze, the box like cars passing me. People in boxes afraid to be free, unwilling to escape their own banality. Nature is all around, we choose not to see, people in boxes will never break free.
Birds singing bringing to mind you, their song tearing my heart in two. Birdsong expressing what I can not express, my inadequate thoughts on life and death. Unaware of their own mortality, birds sing wild and free.
On Tuesday evening I had dinner with an old friend. During the meal I remarked how as I walked up the hill towards the restaurant the sound of birdsong filled the air. Listening to the song of the birds almost made me weep and yet I was unable to put into words why that should be so.
Several days later my friend sent me the below quote who’s origin I have been unable to trace. It expresses beautifully my feelings on that evening as I listened to birdsong on my way to meet my friend
“I walk a path after rain between trees.
I hear birdsong
And weep inside for something lost.”
I have been a little remiss in failing to upload a photograph of myself. I do intend to add a picture to my profile, however in the meantime you may wish to take a look at the below link which shows photographs (including of yours truly) taken during a visit to the New Forest http://kevin-morris.co.uk/2012/07/15/photographs-my-visit-to-the-new-forest/
Last night the wind buffetted my windows drowning out all other sound. Lying in bed I felt the raw power of nature – not the sanatised picture of nature with lambs gambling in sunlit fields, a gentle summer breeze carrying the scent of new mown hay – rather a feeling of desolation, of the insignificance of man filled my soul. Lying warm in my bed my thoughts where cold like the great wind battering my window panes.
Now sitting at my computer in this familiar room, a warm blue carpet under my bare feet and surrounded by books I feel cacooned in the warm embrace of what we call civilisation. We cling to the solid, to material things but forever on the periphery nature stands laughing at our pretenciousness. She was here before we came and when we go she will remain.
As I stroked my labrador comfortably ensconced in his basket I pondered whether it is better to live in the moment with no conception of mortality as he does or if it is preferable to feel and think as we humans do. It is an interesting question but, ultimately an unanswerable one. We are what we are and my four legged friend is what nature, evolution or god (take your pick) designed.
K Morris - Poet 