Friday, December 15, 2006

Whisper Song

Friday, December 15, 2006
5 comments

O master singer
of deep north woods,
a hermit wherever you live
I envy your voice,
the life-force by which
you survive
on this old farm
all winterlong.

When on sunny afternoons
you flit through sumac tangle
to eat the frost-softened fruits
letting loose in a whisper
your springtime song
the very thrill of it
warms me from
the inside out.

5 comments:

On December 15, 2006 at 11:50 PM Anonymous said...

I first heard the hermit thrush at Hasty Brook, our place in northern Minnesota. It took the better part of the summer before I saw one. With a song like magic, they'd sing until after dark. Those were perfect summer evenings. Sigh...

send them back in the spring.

On December 16, 2006 at 8:38 AM Julie Zickefoose said...

Lovely, lovely. We are blessed with these birdies. Your poem is perfect.

On December 16, 2006 at 4:54 PM KatDoc said...

Whew - It's safe to sign onto BOTB again. The whole CSI Whipple entry was interesting, but the photos of half a rabbit were a bit icky. The hermit thrush picture is much better, thanks!

(Although, I can't really complain. I did take a whole series of photos of left-over female cardinal bits this week.)

I hope Cinnamon has recovered. The disapproval level must have risen to a new high after the last post.

~Kathi

On December 16, 2006 at 5:14 PM Bill of the Birds said...

Lynne: I concur. Hermits are ethereal to the nth degree.

KatDoc: Sorry for the ick-factor. I'll try to keep things less grisly in future. Which probably rules out the poems I've written about the gut piles left in the woods by deer hunters.

On April 25, 2022 at 6:21 AM Samantha kakkar said...

Downloading Vivo v23 free ringtones is easy. Covered mp3 songs from famous songs are suitable for cutting as phone ringtones.


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