mr blackbird
I saw, I noticed, one of your young, died he was on the cold earth, motionless his soul free now from the limitation of its earthly body soaring high he looked perfect no sign of attack mr blackbird I could tell I could tell you were looking for him almost cancelling out the body on the earth near you you didn’t want to admit it who would? I removed his body to a safe place, at rest you calmed down, almost acknowledging, accepting your lose, knowing nothing more could be done for your son then you, yes you mr blackbird let out a heart-wrenching lamination you say, you noticed
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mr blackbird
you are a master listener you hop along, you stop, moving your head from side to side listening, listening carefully listening without interruption listening beyond time you hop again and again then suddenly you dive down deep under the earth, a wriggling worm is torn from it’s dark, moist world I wonder what you heard mr blackbird? do worms make a sound or was it a vibration maybe just a hunch mr blackbird, how do you hear? what do you hear? mr blackbird you inspire me to listen better, listen with sight, ears and other senses. mr blackbird,
I watched you for ages, you were in a meditative haze, orange beak open body in a contorted shape, like concord about to take off you were resting in mid summers spotlight shimmering in the haze like a sauna’s intense heat. you were living firmly in he moment, steadfast in another place, another world What do you dream of mr blackbird? mr blackbird sits precariously on his high tower, looking, sensing even knowing something is wrong
Then as if a switch is triggered he is brought to life, there is an urgency to his message, all is not well, you need to listen to me, take action, take cover mr blackbird uses all his energy to proclaim this message, this message that must be heard, despite the bedraggled worn out appearance mr blackbird uses his small frame to jump up and down, flap his wings for all their might, forcing out his message, the echo of his voice reverberating across shed and greenhouse, lawn and flowerbed This pulsating red hot message is passed on to other lookouts, there is a cacophony of noise as the message is received and re-communicated. Then, as if the switch is turned off, peace descends to the garden, the threat has ceased, moved on yet mr blackbird know’s never to rest, next time things could be different…… |