Birdsong
If I might for a moment go all soft
And corny; hold in humble hands aloft
A simple thought about a simple thing:
The sound of morning birds who sing and sing
As daylight starts its soft intrusive creep
And drives away the blurry world of sleep.
I find no message there, no metaphor
Or lesson to provide an underscore
That cheers the wayward heart or softens strife,
Yet nonetheless it somehow saves my life.
Jeffrey Essmann is an essayist and poet living in New York. His poetry has appeared in numerous magazines and literary journals, among them Agape Review, America Magazine, Dappled Things, the St. Austin Review, U.S. Catholic, Grand Little Things, Heart of Flesh Literary Journal, and various venues of the Benedictine monastery with which he is an oblate. He is editor of the Catholic Poetry Room page on the Integrated Catholic Life website.
Nice – here’s an O2B verse on the same theme –
Oh to be the morning Robin
Chorusing to greet the dawn,
And to be the western margin
Of a continent of song.
Even without a metaphor, it’s a beautiful thought, and most certainly something to be thankful for. Life would seem much less worth living without the music of the birds. Thank you for a lovely wake up poem, Jeffrey.
Thank you, I loved this poem and the beautiful image above. These lines were especially beautiful for me:
As daylight starts its soft intrusive creep
And drives away the blurry world of sleep.
Well, it is a bit soft and corny. It’s not the best approach to tell the reader that right at the start.
Loved the poem, Jeffrey, as most of its thoughts resemble
my own. Your last two lines or I should say four, are perfect IMHO.
Thanks Jeffrey,
We don’t give thanks enough for the beauties all around us..
I dream of having the inspiration and ebergy to write Eulogies to the Sparrow and the Pigeon,
both of which give me such joy.
warmest regards,
Karen in Cambridge, Uk
“lay our ears closer to the murmur of life as it actually flows through us at every moment and ..discover there all that quivering and wonder .. which [“realistic”]..literature omits”
C.S Lewis, “Hedonics”
“It was early evening when my journey began. ..The train was full, but not yet uncomfortably full, of people going home..Every lighted house, seen from the road.is magical…There was the charm, as we went on, of running out into evening sunlight,…..of sudden silence at stations I had never heard of..I silenced [an] inward wiseacre. I ..threw myself open to this feathery, impalpable, tingling invitation. The rest of the journey I passed in a state which can be described only as joy.”
Simply inexplicable, Jeffrey–but available all the same!
Birdsongs “soften strife” and “cheer the wayward heart” — very true. Sometimes, we need no grand gesture or sign from the Creator to regenerate hope. Sometimes, the nectar of our very existence can be found in most conspicuous things (that are often hazed by modern life’s commotion). A simple but relatable poem, Mr. Essmann. Also, if you don’t mind, I’d like to know what beget this poem in you and what your own thoughts are about this piece. Thanks. God bless.
Thanks so much, everyone, on behalf of all those marvelous New York City birds who keep peeping, “Nature! Nature! Nature!”
I’m off to feed the squirrels…
Peace,
Jeffrey
Just got to your poem, Jeffrey.
Along the lines of, ‘I don’t believe in ghosts, but I’m afraid of them.’
Here in West Sussex, the birds in the woods behind us are predominantly crows, hundreds of them, that set up a resonant racket at dusk. Early morning, though, the contrast is a marked lifesaver.
Thanks for the read.
For the birds or from the birds — It hardly matters which. A very tidy poem tht covers all the angles.