Believe This
All morning, doing the hard, root-wrestling
work of turning a yard from the wild
to a gardener's will, I heard a bird singing
from a hidden, though not distant, perch;
a song of swift, syncopated syllables sounding
like, Can you believe this, believe this, believe?
Can you believe this, believe this, believe?
And all morning, I did believe.All morning,
between break-even bouts with the unwanted,
I wanted to see that bird, and looked up so
I might later recognize it in a guide, and know
and call its name, but even more, I wanted
to join its church.For all morning, and many
a time in my life, I have wondered who, beyond
this plot I work, has called the order of being,
that givers of food are deemed lesser
than are the receivers.All morning,
muscling my will against that of the wild,
to claim a place in the bounty of earth,
seed, root, sun and rain, I offered my labor
as a kind of grace, and gave thanks even
for the aching in my body, which reached
beyond this work and this gift of struggle.
Marvelous first poem for this site, Richard. Welcome to Poem Hunter! I am a bird watcher myself (see my poem THE BIRD FEEDER) and I kept hoping you would see the bird and identify it for us, but I like the twists and turns the poem took. I especially liked the part where you said you wanted to join the bird's church!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nicely articulated and well expressed thoughts and feelings. Thanks for sharing.