… my blackbird …

Cutting grass – a blackbird sings just for me – I delight in its delight of fresh delicacies.

My black friend

My black friend

Under slow-sailing clouds in shades of white, concluding my war-path on dandelions, and having put up my hammock, I sit and watch first apple blossoms and my black friend, hopping closer and closer in its ritual dance – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 –  pause – picking up a worm – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – within a meter – we look at each other.

Blackbirds are enduring friends in my garden, notwithstanding the occasional mishaps:




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15 responses to “… my blackbird …

  1. currankentucky

    I love that shot, worm and all!! I too am currently watching my apple blossom bloom, all be it from a garden bench!


  2. Ah, where begins rhythm and meter and dance. Loved those prior pieces, too, which I had not read before.


    • Since my encounter the other year I’ve grown very fond of blackbirds. Their sweet song, their rhythmic dance on the lawn to attract worms, their friendliness and intelligence … magical creatures.


  3. Ah yes, the liquid song and the hole reality – The Blackbird


  4. Of course that should have read “A hole in reality” which is what they always seem like to me, an absence of light they are so dark.


  5. Ah! This is beautiful. What would life be if we could not converse with the birds and animals. Blackbirds are particularly honest and simply go about their day, I like that.
    Enjoy the sunshine.B


  6. I love blackbirds too, such wondrous souls in the garden…! 🙂


  7. Kev

    I love blackbirds, don’t know why, I just do.


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