Friday, March 23, 2012
This is the land of robins and the singing thrush.
In these dark woods of Oak and maple echo songs
Of larks and grey winged blackbirds; only their singing
Can rouse spring from her deep slumber in early march.
If I ever did build a home it would be here.
In my planted garden of scented lilies and roses,
I would welcome martins and finches and magpies
And all day watch the swallows twittering in the skies.
To turn away from valleys and look to the skies:
The great eagle patrolling the heavens, the hawks
And kestrels swooping down to catch the careless hare;
How all day long they shape destinies with talons.
A life is not enough to spend on feathered friends.
If you come my way to wonder what kept me here
Only the warbler and bulbul in the bushes
Shall answer: if you hear them, you will understand.