I Come To Think Of Death Differently

I heard it well before dawn, and there

Just outside my door a blue feather,

And down the path, a dozen more.

Under the pine, not fallen but risen

Into light from the needled ground,

 

The blue blossom of its broken body,

Its head lifted up and tilted back,

Its startled eyes and beak still open,

As though in its song of early spring

Had been more joy than it could bear.





Poetry by countryfog
Read 442 times
Written on 2012-03-09 at 17:12

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Now that would be a wondrous way to die--to sing ourselves to death. Lovely verses.
2012-03-10


Nils Teodor The PoetBay support member heart!
Soft and thoughtful words
that make you see death
in a different light
Well done
Thanks for sharing
2012-03-09



An inspiring piece, dear friend.
Many days ago I discovered in my own garden a deceased songbird. How sad I felt as I stood over her broken body and wondered at the cause of her demise. But now I consider, perhaps she had merely sung out her heart with a particularly resonant happiness.
Excellent description here; applaudeth.
2012-03-09