Blackbird Song

Blackbird, Greencroft Valley





Perched upon the green, a smart black peer of feathered kind,
He captures my attention with his catching gold rimmed eye.
As I focus in more closely, steps a strut that’s fine and lairy
And fastens skyward coyly with a song that’s quite contrary.

He’s vanished to a hollow in the nestle of the hedgerow,
Seems he can’t have gone far, yet his form doesn’t show.
From a close dark arbor sings a song sweet and mellow,
Dripping like mead from a beak of golden yellow.

“Come away! Come away! From this garden tamed
By the creosoted fence and the wrought iron gate,
Where round about the table the winged folk squawk and flutter,
Scuffle for the berries and splutter in the water.

Come away! Come away! From this confined country
With the bird that wakes the dead and sends the living off to sleep.
Come away! Come away! From this world that slowly turns
To one of moving spirits that is plentiful in worms.”


4 thoughts on “Blackbird Song

  1. I love laying down in my bed at night with the window open and listening to the mate competing mockingbirds calling me upstream, then downstream, then just outside the window, back and forth all night long.

    1. Thanks for your comments Heather. I enjoyed your essay on Odin’s ravens on Eaarth Animism- some interesting insights on thought, memory and time.

Comments are closed.