Friday, November 19, 2010

some blessed hope

the birds are singing as i write this
their bodies are fluffed up
to hold out the frost
and perhaps more practically -
to hold in the efforts of their hearts

a reminder to me
to always let my own heart sing
no matter the world


thomas hardy wrote of a similar moment

at once a voice arose among
the bleak twigs overhead,
in a full-hearted evensong
of joy illimited.
an aged thrush, frail, gaunt and small,
with blast-beruffled plume,
had chosen thus to fling his soul
upon the growing gloom.
so little cause for carolings
of such ecstatic sound
was written on terrestrial things
afar or nigh around,
that i could think there trembled through
his happy good-night air
some blessed hope, whereof he knew,
and i was unaware.

thomas hardy (excerpted from "the darkling thrush")


Paul C said...

Thanks for rekindling for me this classic Hardy poem. Perfect for this time of year and as a complement to your remarkable photo with the deep regal, but fading colours.

Linda Sue said...

Beautiful! I suppose I feel sorry for the little birds in winter, forgetting that they are well insulated with down. It does take all of their effort to stay warm- they do not sing.
Have you put your bike away for the season? Or are you well insulated- peddling down the pathways, singing?

hope said...

The colors in this one are simply amazing!

Valerianna said...

Both: small moments that hold much, I felt a tinge of regret for the old, thin Thrush. This forest is so full of Thrush songs in spring and summer, their song is like a fluting lament at times.

Jingle Poetry said...

this is magical,
love the beautiful imagery in your words...

birds' singing is of most lovely sound to me.
outstanding poetry.