Archive for March, 2014

three_little_birdsDon’t worry about a thing
‘Cause every thing’s gonna be alright.

Don’t worry about a thing
“Cause every thing’s gonna be alright.

Rise up this morning
Smile with the rising sun
Three little birds
Pitch by more doorstep
Singing sweet songs
Melody’s pure and true
Saying this is my message to you;

Don’t worry about a thing
‘Cause every thing’s gonna be alright.’

Lyrics from Three Little Birds


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” Better to live as a sparrow than a stuffed eagle.”

“Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring
The Winter garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly–and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.”

Edward FitzGerald, translation from the Rubáiyát

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sparrow on the window ledge

“Nothing startles me beyond the Moment. The setting sun will always set me to rights—or if a Sparrow come before my Window I take part in its existence and pick about the Gravel.”  John Keats

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Standing Deer

As the house of a person
in age sometimes grows cluttered
with what is
too loved or too heavy to part with,
the heart may grow cluttered.
And still the house will be emptied,
and still the heart.

As the thoughts of a person
in age sometimes grow sparer,
like a great cleanness come into a room,
the soul may grow sparer;
one sparrow song carves it completely.
And still the room is full,
and still the heart.

Empty and filled,
like the curling half-light of morning,
in which everything is still possible and so why not.

Filled and empty,
like the curling half-light of evening,
in which everything now is finished and so why not.

Beloved, what can be, what was,
will be taken from us.
I have disappointed.
I am sorry. I knew no better.

A root seeks water.
Tenderness only breaks open the earth.
This morning, out the window,
the deer stood like a blessing, then vanished.

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sparrow on branch snow

A city sparrow
touches down
on a bare branch

in the fork of a tree
through whose arms
the snow is sifting —

swipes his beak
against wood, this side
then that,

and flies away:
what sight
could be more common?

Yet I think
for such sights alone
I would live to ninety.

“To Ninety” by Robyn Sarah

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Small Comfort


Coffee and cigarettes in a clean cafe,
forsythia lit like a damp match against
a thundery sky drunk on its own ozone,

the laundry cool and crisp and folded away
again in the lavender closet-too late to find
comfort enough in such small daily moments

of beauty, renewal, calm, too late to imagine
people would rather be happy than suffering
and inflicting suffering. We’re near the end,

but O before the end, as the sparrows wing
each night to their secret nests in the elm’s green dome
O let the last bus bring

love to lover, let the starveling
dog turn the corner and lope suddenly
miraculously, down its own street, home.

“Small Comfort” by Katha Pollitt

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sparrow orange alert

Orange Alert

Today the sparrows are wheeling about,
starving after too many days
of sub-zero weather.

I go outside to fill the feeder.
I feel uneasy. The fate of all this
delicate life in the air above us.

Great oaks push their limbs
through gray sky. I raise my arms
high like branches, press against
the threat of storms.

A bird flies toward the window glass,
but turns aside at the last moment.

by Kirsten Dierking

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