Get Your Premium Membership

THE BIRDS

In the mountains it’s our tradition to delay our morning walk so we can listen to the morning choir that begins promptly at six-o’clock. Yes, at six-o’clock every morning without uttering a word as the dawn breaks over the mountain we sit and listen to the chorus of the birds. The singing can be heard all around us…through the birds are hidden in the trees their voices blend so beautifully carried gently on the breeze. Our first morning in the mountains was a truly wonderful scene… so many voices singing their morning song…we counted seventeen. We recognized the cardinal and the blue jay…birds we often see We heard a nuthatch, a woodpecker, the Carolina wren and chickadee. We heard warblers, robins, a titmouse, as their voices ebb and flow a vireo, a phoebe, a towhee and a crow. After showing our appreciation…the next morning…again at six as we listened to the new song…six more birds were added to the mix. More warblers and a grosbeak shared with us their gift… as did a different kind of nuthatch, a catbird and a chimney swift. The next morning I imagine realizing this is a performance we both love we were joined by a scarlet tanager, a sparrow…and a dove. This morning as I try to describe this mellifluous harmony… (it’s difficult to find the words) joining the ever-expanding chorus is a goldfinch, and a hummingbird Even in a morning rain…using the trees as their umbrella These birds sing out their morning chorus…with no music…Acapella. It’s a beautiful way to begin our day… and for the rest of the day there is a bounce a lilt to the way we walk. compliments of the birds who share with us their beautiful voices every morning at six-o’clock

Copyright © | Year Posted 2024




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.


Book: Shattered Sighs