I spied a blackbird with its jaunty hopping gait
Gathering twigs, then stopping, tilting its head
To one side to listen for worms in order to grate.
With its fondness of litter leaf to lay upon its bed.
It lives in the beech tree or wild sycamore
Breaking twigs with its beak which it shreds to the core.
In winter it is beauty to behold, its plumage of black feathers
And orange beak glistening in the snow and all weathers.
Its orange ringed eye is distinctive as is its beak.
It flies through the woods or forest edge with its feathers so sleek.
From the high treetops he springs to the hedgerow where he can be seen standing,
Or, sometimes glides and flicks its tail upon landing.
This is very good David. I was never fond of the Blackbird or Crow the name that I knew growing up as a child. We as children always tried to shew them away. You described this bird in good details and how it survived. When I spy a Blackbird from now on I will appreciate it's beauty. Very inspiring write.
There is something very meditative about this fine poem like all the world is contracted in your keen observation of the bird and for a moment time stood still. Beautiful.
Beautiful imagery, so detailed, as if I am actually looking at it! Rhythm of this poem is gently soft and soothing. Loved it. Thank you for sharing. RoseAnn
A lovely poem about ther black bird, it says how minutely you observed every movements of it..... loved it
As you may have noticed, I've adopted the blackbird, the crow, the raven. I enjoyed the detail in this poem. I tend toward the abstract and so appreciated the insight that comes from the actual.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful, I love these birds so much.