Today’s poem is called, “The Sparrow”. Did you miss the last few poems? Catch up here! Want to read them as they come? Subscribe at right!
Early morning has a special light to it that no other time of the day has. To capture that light, painters have the advantage of sight; poets don’t. We only have words. Stomp poets have it a little better, meaning they can stand up and enact their poetry to grant a certain amount of stress to a certain phrase. Here’s today’s poem:
A cool morning,
with the sun shining golden on emerald leaves.
Birds chirp joyously,
hopping through the foliage.
Suddenly a sparrow appears,
alighting upon the bushes.
He searches the branches,
and selects a branch that is much, much bigger than he.
And although it seems to defy gravity,
the sparrow takes to the air,
and with his enormous burden,
flutters away to built his nest.
I found it very interesting this morning to see that the sparrows could pick up sticks that were up to two feet long, and still manage to fly off to cram it into their nests under tile roofs. Once a sparrow brought a stick to our house so long that it stuck out from under the eves and over the bathroom window!
Wherever you are in the world, something happens during the spring, be it simply the return of a certain bird, a special flower, the grass turning green, or something else, something always happens. What do you take the most notice of? Write a poem about that, about how miraculous it seems. The newly greened grass? Does it mystify you how it can be brown and dead beneath snow and still become beautifully green? Or how about that flower? What’s amazing about how it slowly unfurls to reveal the color? Describe the event you notice in your words in any language, any cadence, any title.
Spring means rebirth, so write about any re-born objects that you notice!