A glimpse of

tangerine sunlight

“puddles” — sprawling squat bush

the tabbies hiding…

BIRD POETS — an essay

Sometimes, when seeking the gist of a word, look at the second definition in the dictionary.  (I prefer OED.)

Poetry is “something that arouses strong emotions because of its beauty.”

This morning, when I went for a walk, I hear a bird sing.  Its verse reminded me of a Piccolo – each singular note was strong and uplifting.

I wonder.

When humans created their musical instruments did they consciously imitate the birds, or was it a matter of the heart, i.e. INSTINCT?

A poem is “something regarded as comparable to poetry in its beauty.”

Each morning, when I go for a walk, I listen to the birds singing.  I’ve learned to meditate on the sound.  With a little bit of practice I learned to feel the sound.  And with a little bit of practice, a shift in consciousness, a walk up the stairs so to speak – I learned to SEE IT.

For instance:

Small stones dropped into a slow-moving stream [of water]…

Burbling old peculator, the coffee’s hot and ready to pour…

A scratchy throat, fresh sandpaper pressed against the newly honed wood…

Accent on a letter, little hat, le petit chapeau, circumflex – that’s what this particular bird’s poem sounds like….

Definition of A Poet:  “A person possessing special powers of imagination or expression.”  (OED)

 

…THE GANG’S ALL HERE.

Two tall thin isolated Rabbits

Sitting up —

considering…

The Frog squats in the puddle, bellowing,

basking in the sunlight…

A slim Mockingbird perched

on top of a street light is

questioning…

Two frighten Cats are trying

to hide…

A young Starling

lifting its slight wings

trying out its voice

joyously…