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Wednesday, April 27, 2011

When birds get insomnia

Out there in two-thirty’s
marbled indigo, he goes on
and on with his warbling,
not minding the long unwinding
until the dawn.

5 comments:

manik sharma said...

francis,
firstly thank you for introducing me to the word warble..The definition of the word itself seems like a short poem(hence the mention)..i have noticed quite a strokes of 'dawn' being painted in your poems...does this say anything about the writer's mindset these days....it has to in a way i guess...whether we ever try to figure it out is another scenario...a rare one at that....i guess

lucychili said...

i often wonder if they
mind our streetlights
messing with their sleep

Andy Sewina said...

Nicely Francis, I like the way you use colour in your poems.

Francis Scudellari said...

@Manik I do like the word "warble" ... but I try to use it sparingly, so its enjoyment doesn't lessen :). I think dusks and dawns may play a larger role because they're periods of transition, and I'm attracted to that.

@Lucy Some adapt better than others. My neighborhood is very light-polluted. I wish I could recognized bird calls better. This one had a very distinct sound.

@STG Thanks... indigo has always been a favorite of mine.

Jackarouette said...

It was the distinct sound of the crested pigeon,located in NSW.
Its song is carried on the breeze across the Pacific to the New World.