“Like
a piece of ice on a hot stove a poem must ride on its own melting ... Read it a
hundred times, it will forever keep its freshness as a metal keeps its
fragrance. It can never lose its sense
of a meaning that once unfolded by surprise as it went.”
– Robert Frost
I almost always think of Robert Frost’s poetry
when I hear or see things in nature.
This morning, unlike the bird that bothers Frost in his short poem
below, the bird on our house was not creating music, but noise. It was a Flicker and it decided to “mark” its
territory – or maybe it was attract a mate – by drumming on our chimney with
its beak.
After giving it some further thought, I decided
a bird on the roof is still better than no birds at all. I just wish, like the bird Frost is annoyed
with in his poem, it would work on a little song to go along with the
percussion. Spring is sprung! Enjoy the sounds it gives you.
A Minor Bird by Robert Frost
I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;
Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.
The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.
And of course there must be something wrong
In wanting to silence any song.
And not sing by my house all day;
Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.
The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.
And of course there must be something wrong
In wanting to silence any song.
Share A Writer’s Moment with a friend by clicking the g+1 button below.
No comments:
Post a Comment