Monday Morning Musings:
“Can you fly
I heard you can! Can you fly
Like an eagle doin’ your hunting from the sky”
–Joni Mitchell, “That Song about the Midway” Listen Here.
“No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.”
–Billy Collins, “Forgetfulness”
In these days of gloom
dimmed dreary days
of November blues
while in the news, the hints of doom
constant, unrelenting–
but then comes the sound
and sight
hundreds of birds, in flight
this murmuration, a delight,
their orienting
so breathtaking
shaking me, awaking
all the wonder,
this magic, a gift
drifting from the sky
flying low and high,
they call in their ancient tongue
(we the earthbound
can’t understand)
and then they go–
but birds seem everywhere,
even in the show we watch–
where the crows are what?
Harbingers of fortune or fate?
Or perhaps they come too late
for our planet,
pale dot of blue,
so, I delight
in nature’s gifts
and sights
the morning sun,
the moon of silver-white
smiling in benediction
even when we forget
it’s there.
I cook and bake,
as the days in constant gloaming
take their toll, I want to snuggle
not go roaming
through rain-filled streets
Puddle Reflections on a Rainy November Day , Philadelphia Parkway
Crossing the Ben Franklin Bridge into Philadelphia, from Patco Train
Rainy Day Reflections, Philadelphia
yet, we do what we must
and so, I write poems with my mother
who only thinks of summer coming
her thoughts drifting through time—
like birds in murmuration flight–
Writing poems with my mother
and her eyesight
diminished, like the day’s light
her memories uncertain
confused, a twilight zone
of fact and fiction
but still we make her laugh
and try to remember what was—
hold mental photographs
of before, then walk through the door
to our other life,
husband and wife
we drink some wine
and I remember what I can
hold everything that’s fine
within my mind
and see the magic of moon and birds
and the old oak tree
glowing in the autumn gloom
remember how
it holds hundreds of memories
listen–
hear it murmur, murmur, murmur
as the acorns fall
in the rustling leaves of brown
covering cold ground
where secrets lie
waiting, waiting
for the warming sky–
and I dream
(I heard you can)
we fly.
Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings 
The murmurations and smaller flocks are quite a sight to see at this time of year. You captured a wonderful visit in photos and metaphor.
Thank you very much, Janice!
The way you are able to transform a day into a poem is uncanny and beautiful. I particularly savor how your brain /heart finds certain patterns of rhymes — “so breathtaking…shaking me, awaking” — to describe your thoughts/feelings/experiences/observations. I also enjoyed the Joni Mitchell song, which led me into the associative land of YouTube, where even MORE videos by and about Joni began popping up after “The Song About The Midway.” THANK YOU.
Thank you so much, Will! I appreciate your lovely comment, and I’m happy I sent you off to a Joni world. Her voice sounds so young here. I also really like Bonnie Raitt’s version of the song.
What a great piece! I love the musings and wonderings of life and the past, present, and future. Aging parents present a unique challenge. I love this stanza…
but still we make her laugh
and try to remember what was—
hold mental photographs
of before, then walk through the door
to our other life,
Thank you so much, Dwight. I’m so pleased you stopped by and left such a thoughtful comment.
You are welcome!
The lines mentioning your mother resonated with me. Beautiful musing, Merril. You know I love birds, but the black birds…and that many, sometimes scare me. I suppose I watched The Birds one too many times. 😉
Thank you, Jill. You know, in that one photo, they look scary, and of course I thought of The Birds, but in reality it was so awe-inspiring.
BTW, did you ever read the Daphne du Maurier story The Birds is based on? Much different in tone–but probably scarier in a way because there’s none of the campiness of the movie.
I understand what you mean, Merril. Seeing a large flock of birds all with the same destination is an incredible scene. No, I’ve never read the story. Wish I’d read it in college…I’ve turned into a chicken when it comes to reading scary books. 🙂
🙂
Loved this from start to finish. Birds and acorns and remembering. Do you know what birds they were? Grackles? I love that name. I wish we had them 🙂
Thank you so much!
The birds were amazing! I’m not sure what they are. I didn’t think they were grackles, but when I went back just now and looked, the ones in the car mirror photo do look like grackles. I found this: “He said groups of birds like this often fly in mixed flocks, consisting of true blackbirds (red-winged, most of the time), common grackles, brown-headed cowbirds and starlings.” So perhaps there was more than one type of “blackbird” in this mix.
I’ve never known birds do that. Maybe some of the little songbirds do, but these are amazing!
I guess it’s not that uncommon here–I’ve been seeing it happen a lot, but this was the first time I was actually in the midst of it. I think I posted a short video on FB, but I thought it would take too long to load on blogs.
I wonder what the ornithologists say about it, whether it’s a change in behaviour. That brings us back to The Birds…
Yes. . . I guess the Oracle would know.
Only the converted listen to her though unfortunately.
Yes. Sigh.
😦
I agree with you about the story being scarier than the film. No happy end either.
Yes, I don’t remember it too well, but I remember thinking it was very bleak and scarier than the movie. In my mind, the story plays in black, white, and grey.
Yes, it is colourless. As I remember it’s set in England and there’s radio silence over the whole country if not the whole world. Nowhere to go, no help to hope for.
I’m glad you understood what I meant. 🙂 Yes, I think it’s set in Cornwall. Isn’t that where most of her books were set?
True. It probably was. When I think Cornwall it’s the sea. What I remember of the story is very claustrophobic interiors.
Wow! What a sight and your poem evokes the sense of wonder beautifully, Merrill! 😀
Thank you so much, Annika!
Your words reflect the billows of a murmuration. A lovely reflection on your day.
Thank you very much, Derrick!
This was beauty. All the way through.
Awww–thank you so much, Dale!
Well-deserved
Objects beyond the mirror are even closer. That bird experience had to be exciting.
It was, Ken. Thanks.
I too love the mirror photo. And the talk of grackles made me think of my beach grackles.
I saw a murder of crows last week, but it was out my window. They always inspire awe, but to be in the midst of one…
Poetry was something my mother responded to even when she could no longer communicate. Thanks for reminding me. (K)
I like listening to the crows.
I’m pleased my musings brought back a memory for you. My mom had fun with the poetry writing–something different. She can’t see well enough to do crafts or play games. I also played her the latest Randy Rainbow video. 😉
You and I can appreciate all the birds mean to us. My daughter otoh would think these birds Hitchcockian. So strange to me. Your baking is always insurance against the gloom!
Thank you, Luanne!
Oh, what a sight those birds are! I’ve watched The Birds many times but I’ve never had a fear of birds attacking me, only wonder. (Although,I have seen mockingbirds attack people and cats that get too close to their nests.) This here: “we do what we must” … rings so true. We do what we must but at least some of that “must” is comforting and creative like baking and writing poetry with your mother. I hope you have a wonderful holiday!
Thank you, Marie. I hope you do, too.