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When Birdsong Colors The Air A pair of mockingbirds nests in a japonica Shrub near my bedroom window. Long known For their ability to duplicate the exact Notes of other birds, both react to my Morning whistles as if I were Toscanini And just tapped my baton. I've not been Able to determine a pattern of their singing Except one certain event each month. The brilliance of a full-moon night leads To a serenade, always from the same perch In a nearby ash tree. Those evenings lush With moon-struck glory elate and elevate. The bird's throat and breast throb as he sings And after each series of notes, he hops. Sing, Hop, whistle, hop, croon to the moon, hip-hop. Perfect cadence of sound and motion, a show Of delight. Comes dawn, the pair peeks out the Leaves and with flickers of white-streaked Tails, they sweep past then out of sight. Yet Another day for mimetic play, for mimicry And to flavor the air with arrays of melody. |
Additional Notes:
For our bird watcher, Aviary Emeritus.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2004-12-07 19:11:14
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.82051
Hi Dear Mell,
This is another really wonderful of your poems.
You are really a talented lady.
I literally heard the birds sing..with your cadence...thank you.
I love birds!
The big ones scare me. and flocks have a lot of power.[maybe from the movie]
I had a feeder by my bedroom door and a big woodpecker came and hung from the eaves eating,
then was strutting around on the deck/too close for my comfort!
I think mocking birds are big too?
What a nice interlude in winter.
I wish I'd reviewed this quicker/I LIKE IT AS WELL AS BLUE.
Think sunshine and we'll survive the winter.
I hope the prayers are working.'
happy holidays!
Love
Dellena