rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,

New Song

Some bird I've never heard before sang this evening. It made a rising whistle that turned to a trill and then to a falling whistle. There were two birds in fact, sitting on a wire, but only one of them sang, or only one sang at a time. They were small birds, and too far away for me to see them clearly, and they were back-lit by the late light which the thin overcast diffused into an ethereal glare.

After a few minutes, they left the wire and flew straight toward the end of the house where I was standing. When they got close I could see no discernible markings on them. They were just plain, small, brownish-gray birds. They alighted briefly on the rain gutter, then took off again, passing over the house toward the back yard. I heard no more from them after that, and didn't see them when I went to the back yard to feed the cats a bit later.

Whatever species they were, they must have been just passing through, but I have no idea how long their journey might have been, where they were from, or where they were bound. Once the strangers were gone, the only birds I heard were the acorn woodpeckers doing their usual chuckle. Their familiar call suddenly seemed so prosaic, ringing through the fading evening light.

Sunday Verse


by Kevin Young

I wake to the cracked plate
of moon being thrown

across the room–
that'll fix me

for trying sleep.
Lately even night

has left me–
now even the machine

that makes the rain
has stopped sending

the sun away.
It is late,

or early, depending–

who's to say.
Who's to name

these ragged stars, this
light that waters

down the insomniac dark
before I down

it myself.
Sleep, I swear

there's no one else–
raise me up

in the near-night
& set me like

a tin toy to work,
clanking in the bare

broken bright.


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