I’ve been feeding the birds. Maybe you have too. Hope so.
I had no idea those little chickadees would eat so much but it’s a pleasure to watch them.
One day, on the way back to my kitchen, I passed my bookshelf and Death of a Naturalist by the late great Irish poet, Seamus Heaney, caught my attention. I opened the book, flipped through it to this lovely little poem which seems to fit perfectly with the moment.
Saint Francis and the Birds
When Francis preached love to the birds,
They listened, fluttered, throttled up
Into the blue like a flock of words
Released for fun from his holy lips.
Then wheeled back, whirred about his head,
Pirouetted on brothers’ capes,
Danced on the wing, for sheer joy played
And sang, like images took flight.
Which was the best poem Francis made,
His argument true, his tone light.