Summer morning. Early.
Unusually quiet—
there's almost no one
at the park today.
For a change
the wind blows
there are clouds
it's mostly gray.
I walk on.
A group of birds
fly swiftly overhead
into the distance—
as if trying
to outrun a future
that they sense
is on its way.
In a poet's eyes, even such casual scenes gain great importance and set his mind into flights of fancy! It is believed that birds can sense the changes happening in Nature and get alerted by the signs of natural calamities much earlier than human beings! A fine write!
Hi, Valsa, and thanks. You may have noticed that such moments—moments on the verge of changes—are fascinating to me—as in this poem. Though we don’t have some of the keen senses of other animals, we do have our own antennae of sorts, yes? Hoping you are well and thriving, Glen
irfanulla, good to meet you here at ph, and thank you for your comment. now that i'm aware of you i'll be interested to read your poetry. all the best to you. -glen
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem is an act of faith, even though it has no religious vocabulary, In other words, there's no preaching, only witnessing. There's no discernible goal or even direction: you merely walk and observe until your attentiveness pays off with the flight of birds and the spiritual analogy that gives you. This is an artless poem; It fulfills itself just by being here at the same time I am (and other readers will be) .
hey, daniel! good to see and receive your comments. thank you. implicit in this is something you'll recognize from your familiarity with classic literature—where the sight of an eagle, e.g., on the eve of battle, might be taken as a favorable sign. though some religious types might dismiss such things as superstition, it seems entirely human to me to respond to and wonder about the changes, subtle or not, we witness in nature. -glen