I find pleasure in the smallest of things
in the glass like wings that a cicada brings
and from the small brown bird in springtime when she sings

I am amazed at the little things
like the slate blue sails of a boat in flight
and a moth who flies into the bright light

I fall in love on a daily basis with feathers I find in the oddest of places
and the ocean spray that splashes the faces
of giggling people in boats at the races

Won't you sing for me,
Please?
It's been so long
Since I thrilled to the trills and warbles
Of your living song
This confused and bruised winter
Has defied nature's logic
So, set the world to rights
And sing for me
To remind me
That I'm part of something
That still remains wild
And vivid

                            By Phil Roberts

The words of birds I do not understand

Yet, the songs they sing are familiar melodies

Of love and joy for seasons new, they lift their voice

To sing of today with fresh approach, yesterday is forgotten and no longer

With lilt and loft their lyrics reach me, easing the rise from sleep

The promise of morning, as dawn seems to linger, brings wings of color to my ear

When light becomes bright their voices fade to distant trees, through woods does the chorus sing softly

The awakening songs have given way to the day unfolding, and fetching seed for the young to feed they tend to the task with tune

Birds sing to say take not the day so stern, be light with thought and carry always joyful refrain

For each morning you can be, alive and free to sing songs of happiness

¤==()()

in the birdsong and the wind
God plays his violin!


[10W]
SoulSurvivor
(C) 2/29/2016

Have ever you heard
   The crows sing sweetly?
A singing bird,
   They sing discreetly.

They caw to scoff
   And to berate you,—
To **** you off
   And agitate you.

O.O

Listening to birds
our doves and all the wildlings
brightens my mornings

The hair falls, blonde and long:
A cherished doll. Birdsong
Echoes through the dale, as
Twilight casts its gaze and vixens wail.
Sparks driven out as spikes driven in
Places gone, things untold; people she's been.
An openness: the silky vapour
Evaporates, yet cannot escape her
Cocoa eyes, wide as the day they met.
He sees her yet. He hears her yet.
Though she says no words, casts a glance
Over her shoulder, flying askance
Ringlets quiver in the breeze,
Yet in the shadow of the trees,
No man appears. And yet she hears
A pheasant's cry: the yellowest canary
Its song a desperate scream, contrary
Muntjacs dance with target tails,
But the *****, ever hidden, wails.

A sun, shinning through looking glass
Broken pieces of me are glowing with remorse
Can you tell, how lovely tea leaves are singing
Duets with crows and ravens
Everything shines in glory, shines in regrets
Falling in reverse, crying in reverse
Gone are the ghosts, gone are dreams
How lovely are the birds' beaks
Integrating with the sea's edge
Joining the dead ships and shells
Keeping the diseases, keeping the rain
Low sounds, do you remember how it felt when we said goodbye?
Melodies discharging tears from their eyes like a funeral's crowd
No more remorse, no more regrets
Opening their mouths but the words are trapped like birds in cages
Pills are choking them, stuffing their bodies
Quite was the day, loud was the night with screams from within
Run for your life, or run for your death
Sick were my dreams, sick with my insanity
This birdsong, it's haunting you, haunting me
Under pressure, under which gate is the key?
Vaulted were their smiles, like an ancient city
With sorrow it is, vaulted is the gate to you
Xeroxing my needs, every inch of my pride
You have set my soul on fire, I'm burned to the ground
Zonked out, exhausted by the lies that lingered through your skin, through mine.

As I was a child,
Unlike the normal mass.
I wanted to be the nightingale
The best in class.

A habit I planted,
In the Garden of Eden.
Watered by the grief of my past,
As it grew taller, the fruit sweetened.

I had sinned,
Profited from competition’s demise.
Stole his talent,
Grew in age but not that wise.

What enables, divine
What disables, human.
Got out of luck and empathy,

In apathy, like an ungrateful yeoman.

Couldn't wash the mirror,
Need to wash my face.
Blinded by my addiction of fame,
Embryonic, falling from the summit in rage.

Now I am a pavement artist,
Pride and sin hath a fall.
Living with and like stray,
Failing my life as the nature called.

I walk through the groves and the singing treetops
silence enrobing every sound, in these places where
people lay still living, under the ground,
for here the grass grows the greenest
and the trees all stand tall, yes
they are gone, but they did not long fall.