And as they say:
"Birdes of a feather will flocke togither."
~ John Minsheu, The Dictionarie in Spanish and English, 1599
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
― Emily Dickinson
6 comments:
before advent of power
lines they perched
on bridge cables, circus tight
ropes, nerve
threads -
inhabiting electrons
discharging back
lit monitor, or
in this on
rushing poetic
line they
escape simple
trap of human history,un
shocked keeping
perfect balance on our
power lines
keeping
us off
balance.
Vibrant poem, Anon! Well-crafted....thank you :-)
Oh, we're all about birds this week, aren't we? When I find a nest in my garden, I feel so honored.
Yes, we must have "birds" on the same "wire". While walking the other day, I noticed how many nests were in the trees along the path; nests that are usually camoflaged by all the leaves. I am happy, too, when they make nests in our yard.
Cool photos! I wonder if birds who hang out on wires always line up in the same way. "Hey, you're in my spot!"
Katie, that's a good question! I wonder if they become possessive of their "spot"?
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