Posts Tagged blackbird
SOMETHING OF SUMMER
Posted by David Selzer in Poetry on May 25th, 2011
While, at the last outpost of its empire,
a blackbird sounds reveille and, next door,
red admirals repose in buddleia,
something of summer, caught in the early air
and gathered, a lightness, perfumed, bold,
is touching narrow, walled-in gardens
where, high over houses epochs old,
wood pigeons flute in maples and a thrush,
lost in the snows of a pear tree, cuts notes
like glass. Neglected blossom lights
along the chipped and blackened bricks, a rush
of scent from satiny blooms, while clovered
lawns are striving for grass.
VIRTUALLY BIRDLESS IN ASSISI
Posted by David Selzer in Poetry on July 23rd, 2009
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                                i
In Umbria – the cuore verde of pristine, wooded hills,
Orvieto’s honey-pale wines,
the paintings of Perugino and Pisano,
the Tiber’s milky jade,
tartufo nero -
they stew thrush.
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                                ii
At least once in our suburban garden,
house sparrow, green finch, ring-necked dove, wren,
jay, wood pigeon, robin, starling, Â swift, Â jackdaw, blue tit,
magpie, blackbird, sparrowhawk, chaffinch, swallow,
gold crest, bull  finch, great tit, hen harrier, mistle thrush
have, variously, courted, mated, nested, birthed, ate, shat, killed,Â
bobbed, waddled, hopped, walked, pecked, fluttered, shrieked,Â
whistled, warbled, squawked and died.
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                               iii
But, above all, sang – that esoteric music,
rich and varied as their plumage:
untutored, uncultivated, unstinting.
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                                iv
Though only crows circle St. Francis’ basilica,
in Cheshire ostriches are farmed.
How accidents of diet, doctrine, sentiment and flag
determine extinction!

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