Thursday, May 15, 2014

Light Gathering


                     ... a bird flew against my window
      
                                                     ... cradled in my palm / he opened his beak ... drew his last breath

                               ... a small sound ... like light gathering





6 comments:

  1. This poem feels like it was composed by poet and bird equally, and translated into light. My compliments.

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    1. wow ... what a wonderful compliment ... thank you so much.

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  2. Oh, dear Teresa, how did you know? I am crying as I read this for its beauty and grace - and because, just a wee while ago, a bird flew into one of our windows. Fortunately, he was only stunned, but, I have felt birds, cradled in my own hands, and seen that last breath, "like light/gathering"

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    1. Penny, what a sweet response. Too often it happens but usually they rest and then fly on .. this was different and very hard ...Thank you so much.

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  3. Well described. A sad event.

    Yesterday a swallow managed to get into the chimney of our woodstove and find its way down to the (thankfully cold) fire box. When Io opened the door, it jumped onto the edge of the door opening and let me pick it up. So soft! And it flew nicely when I took it outside.

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    Replies
    1. Oh, I'm so glad you were able to rescue it ... all these sweet little beings ... so fragile.

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