PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

We are accustomed to a variety birds who, after we fill our feeders, find a way

to fly up, perch a while and have a snack or two every day. 

It’s usually the same birds each day with quiet smiles we greet 

but recently a Rose-breasted grosbeak happened by for a bite to eat.

We realized when it came to our visitors 

he was a different bird from all the rest

by the bright red triangle like a Superman emblem emblazoned on his chest.

He visited the feeder off and on…overcoming his initial instinctive fear

then brought along his son or daughter…when he knew the coast was clear.

What we witnessed next was one of the beauties of nature…

a beauty that’s second to none…

when that rose-breasted grosbeak took seeds from our feeder

and fed them to his son…

Or daughter…it’s difficult to tell since I’m not an ornithologist.

but son or daughter this is one moment we wouldn’t have wanted to miss.

Because as we watched the father feed his fledgling…

as they performed this beautiful gastronomic ballet…

we were reminded of the circle of life and the important part that parents play.

How all parents want to keep their offspring safe…are tryin to do their best

whether it’s a human being like me…or a bird with a red triangle on its chest.

How all parents should be feeding, housing, protecting and celebrating

the little ones whose lives they all had a big part in creating.

As I look around at what we humans are doing to one another…

with our wars, our prejudices…our abusive and hateful words….

I sometimes wish we were less like humans…

and a little more like the birds.

At our cabin in the mountains we love to wake up early

as the day is just beginning…

and listen to the birds warm up…

as they ready their voices for the singing.

Each bird has just awoken from their nighttime sleep

or just arrived at our outdoor concert hall

and each needs a few moments before the dawn

To prepare their voices to enthrall 

It’s like listening to to an orchestra tuning up

without inhibition or pretense…

as they prepare their voices…and we await…

the symphony to commence.

There is so much beauty in their warm up…

that while we listen we rejoice…

savoring each birds singular style

unique expression…and solitary voice.

Once they’re all warmed up

and are ready to engage…

the cardinal…the conductor..

flys out to center stage.

He surveys all his concert members

then begins to sing his song…

and slowly, quietly at first, 

all the other birds sing along.

And when we hear them harmonize…

we know the warming up is done…

and that is when we sit back and smile.

knowing the concert has begun.

We feel blessed to be in attendance.

to every facet of their symphony without words…

blessed to be around to witness 

the beauty

and the singing of the birds.

If we want our future t generations 

to enjoy the birds as they sing their morning songs

then we should be planting trees wherever we go…

because the more trees we plant today

the more birds will make their nests in them

so new birds can sing their morning songs 

tomorrow.

In the mountains it’s our tradition to delay our morning walk

so we can listen to the morning choir that begins promptly at six-o’clock.

Yes, at six-o’clock every morning without uttering a word

as the dawn breaks over the mountain we sit and listen to the chorus of the birds.

The singing can be heard all around us…through the birds are hidden in the trees

their voices blend so beautifully carried gently on the breeze.

Our first morning in the mountains was a truly wonderful scene…

so many voices singing their morning song…we counted seventeen.

We recognized the cardinal and the blue jay…birds we often see

We heard a nuthatch, a woodpecker, the Carolina wren and chickadee.

We heard warblers, robins, a titmouse, as their voices ebb and flow

a vireo, a phoebe, a towhee and a crow.

After showing our appreciation…the next morning…again at six

as we listened to the new song…six more birds were added to the mix.

More warblers and a grosbeak shared with us their gift…

as did a different kind of nuthatch, a catbird and a chimney swift.

The next morning I imagine realizing this is a performance we both love

we were joined by a scarlet tanager, a sparrow…and a dove.

This morning as I try to describe this mellifluous harmony…

(it’s difficult to find the words)

joining the ever-expanding chorus is a goldfinch, and a hummingbird

Even in a morning rain…using the trees as their umbrella

These birds sing out their morning chorus…with no music…Acapella.

It’s a beautiful way to begin our day…

and for the rest of the day there is a bounce a lilt to the way we walk.

compliments of the birds 

who share with us their beautiful voices 

every morning at six-o’clock

BIRD WATCHERS! 

I’m sure you’ve sen them out in nature…with their binoculars glued to their eyes….

pointing…waving…jumping up and down as if they’re constantly surprised!

They often dress alike…they flock together…filled with a shared one-love…

For years I found them easy to spot…and easy to make fun of. 

Over the years, however, I’ve seen a subtle change in my outlook and attitude…

Now, whenever I see a bird in nature…I’m filled with gratitude.

I discovered the more I walked in nature…where birds are all around

I began to recognize some of them…from their sight and from their sound.

I’ve even gone as far as to buy myself a bird-watcher book…

and a good pair of binoculars…you know…to get a closer look.

The other morning on Honeymoon Island gazing through my binoculars 

at another island…out of reach

I screamed to Deborah, who was next to me…”There’s an eagle on that beach!”

Did I mention Deborah also into this birdwatching life has grown…

She didn’t need to borrow mine…she has binoculars of her own.

We were mesmerized by that eagle who stood there without a flutter or a fuss…

Who did not need binoculars to see the two of us.

When he noticed people on his beach as the sun lit up the day

I’m pretty sure he nodded to us…before he gracefully flew away.

That was the highlight but not the extent of our birdwatching…as many other birds flew our way.

In fact we recognized by sight or sound…20 other birds that day.

Red-winged blackbirds, pelicans, laughing gulls…egrets, plovers

and a host of other birds before our walk was over.

As I was writing down the names of all the birds we saw…for a moment I became numb

because I realized, in that moment, what I have become.

Those birdwatchers who when I was younger I would ridicule and condemn…

I realized that morning…I am one of them.

A proud birdwatcher who often finds himself awestruck…without words

whenever I get to walk in nature…or share a sunrise with the birds.

A favorite memory of her grandma began before she could even say a word…

In her Grandma’s backyard, sitting on her lap…tossing seeds out for the birds.

It’s where her love for her grandma and birds began…where her imagination first stirred.

It’s where (I imagine you can guess what it was) she uttered her first word.

She remembers Grandma saying, “We only feed them seeds…we never feed birds bread.”

It’s where she learned her colors…blue, black, yellow, green and red.

It’s where she learned to count…it’s a memory that lingers….

how some days there were more birds in Grandma’s yard…than she had toes and fingers.

She remembers Grandma saying, “I live in this big house on my own…

and when you’re not here…with all these birds…I never feel alone.”

Her mom was worried about her on the day of her grandma’s funeral… 

she hadn’t said two words.

Until, at the cemetery, she pulled a bag of seeds out of her pocket saying,

“This is for the birds.”

“What do you mean?” Her mother asked as handfuls of seeds were thrown.

“It’s to remind the birds that Grandma’s here…so she’ll never be alone.”

Now, whenever she visits her grandma’s grave…she kneels down…

she whispers a few words…

then she plants some flowers for her grandma…

and spreads some seeds out for the birds.