Saturday, March 20, 2010

When One Bird Sings


In the spring and summer and into the fall, I can hear birds every morning. In the winter, they either fly away or they're too cold to sing, because the morning air is silent of them.

What I notice most in the summer, though, is not the singing, but rather that one rare morning when the birds are silent.

What I notice most in the winter is not the silence of their absence, but rather that one rare morning when one bird sings.

3 comments:

Thesauros said...

You life doesn't need to be this complicated.

Dr. Mike said...

My Hand

Shows how little hard work
I have done. Its creases

Mimic furrows on my forehead
From too much grief, but how

Would you know unless
I reached out to shake you hand.

[Disposable Poem March 20, 2010]
Dr. Mike

HK Stewart said...

Thesauros: Thanks for the comment. Nothing complicated in listening to a bird sing. It just reminds me I have nothing to be anxious about.

Dr. Mike: Great poem -- yet again. Thanks.

HKS