.
Night Bird Singing
Birdsong is a conspicuous avian vocalization often
used for mate attraction. —Basic Ornithology
Long after midnight, a lonely bird sings;
From tangles of tree branches, a sudden song springs.
Again and again, the haunting refrain—
It pierces the darkness of the black windowpane.
Note follows note, such a pretty sweet string,
This solo performer to my window-frame brings.
He plays his flute with such natural art,
With meter and rhythm like a feathered Petrarch.
But, please, little bird, with thy whistling plight,
Why disturb my sweet slumber in dark holy night?
Why sing thee such tunes, the world’s gone to bed?
What wakens such feeling in a feather-brained head?
Surrounded by silence, tucked out of sight,
You play the sad minstrel while you wait for the light.
With none to listen, you practice your art;
In sonatas embellished, you pour out your heart.
I know, little bird, that heartache and pain;
You’ve lost your dear lover, you keep calling her name.
Who could have thought? Melancholy has wings;
In wild Mother Nature, even sorrow still sings.
.
.
Louis Groarke is a professor in the Philosphy Department of St. Francis Xavier University, in Canada. He has published short stories and poems in various literary venues but is a philosopher by trade. He recently published a book on literary criticism Uttering the Unutterable: Aristotle, Religion, and Literature (McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2023). In effect, it provides a traditional response to post-modernism.
What a treat of a poem! I revel in birds and birdsong, and often hear the dulcet strains of a lone tune from a feathered friend at night… a tune that tugs at my heart in its melancholic splendor. You have managed to capture that moment in exquisite poetry. I particularly like, “Surrounded by silence, tucked out of sight, /You play the sad minstrel while you wait for the light.” – simply beautiful! Thank you!
Thanks Susan; sorry I have been busy; but I do appreciate the comment–you say: “the dulcet strains of a lone tune from a feathered friend at night,” so nicely put! The important thing is how a bird singing in the middle of the night makes us touch something pastoral and real and intangible and meaingful in an urbanized world. I had to work hard on the form. Thanks,
Nicely done, Louis. I always take my hat off to those who can write so well on birds and flowers.
Thanks for the read.
You are most welcome; much appreciated!
Lovely poem so smooth and alluring ending in melancholy, but with a profound ending that “In wild Mother Nature, even sorrow still sings.”
Thank you, Roy; I have read some of your formal poems; edifying and down to earth.
Birds are singing in the meadow,
__Flying in the skies.
Nature making sheets of music—
__Sounds like Paradise.
Very nice!
“feathered Petrarch” – I love it. It’s quite unique.
Thanks, Cheryl; I believe in the poetic tradition (broadly construed); I wanted to include a reference to poets past,
I enjoyed your poem very much, Professor Groarke. The second to last line tugs at my heartstrings.
Thanks jd; one tries to write poems that, hopefully, move others. All the best, Lg
This is a beautiful response to beauty, Louis. Indeed, “what wakens such feeling in a feather-brained head?” And we think of ourselves along with you! Many thanks for the expression. Even if it takes years to perfect a piece, as you said in your earlier post, please continue. I also plan to purchase your literary criticism as noted in your biography above.
Dear Margaret, Thanks so much. Please, if you have questions about the literary criticism material, just let me know. It is scholarly but, I hope, highly readable. I find it takes me a long time to get a formal piece done; the inspiration comes quickly, but to get the words, the metaphors, the rhyme, and the meter just right may take several years. I am slow-witted I am afraid! Thanks again! L.