This is the least involved I've been in National Poetry Month in many many years. I will have a line in the Progressive Poem, and I am signed up to host Poetry Friday at the end of the month, but other than that I have hardly had any poetry-related activity. I'm not teaching English these days, but French, and while we do have an occasional poem on the agenda, it's just not the same as my daily poetry habit of the past. I hardly have any poetry books with me here in Uganda, either, so I'm very thankful for the Internet! And I'm hardly writing at all, except for emails, texts, and lesson plans, as I go through the adjustment process to a new place and a new job. I keep telling myself that next year will be easier, but it seems as though I've been saying that for a while now.
One of the things I like least about living here in this gorgeous country full of amazing birds is the time difference. We are seven hours ahead of Eastern Time right now, so it's very hard to get together with people in the US, what with work and sleeping and stuff. But one good thing about it is that as I'm puttering about at mid-morning on this Friday of my Easter break, it's still barely even Friday on the east coast of the US, and there's still plenty of time to post something.
What's keeping me going these days is watching birds, in my yard for a few minutes in the morning before work, or sometimes -- like yesterday -- hours of fabulous birding in a place full of species I haven't seen before. So here's a Craig Arnold poem about Central America that gets at kind of the same thing, except that in this poem he's just hearing instead of seeing, and I get to do both. You can read the rest of it or listen to it at the link below.
The Invisible Birds of Central America
by Craig Arnold
For Alicia
The bird who creaks like a rusty playground swing
the bird who sharpens the knife the bird who blows
on the mouths of milk bottles the bird who bawls like a cat
like a cartoon baby the bird who rubs the wineglass
the bird who curlicues the bird who quacks like a duck
but is not a duck
7 comments:
Wonder is always there, isn't it?? I'm glad the birds are feeding your spirit. And French! Wow! You are a poem, Ruth! xo
I keep telling myself that this year will get easier....and...I'm still waiting. I've wondered,is it my age? Consequences of a global pandemic? 'kids these days'? I don't know but nothing feels easy these days in school. What a beautiful poem about birds.
Ruth: This Craig Arnold poem is amazing... how he imagines the bird calls...love it! Thank you for your titles also, I must follow up on some. Today 2 vultures fought over a mate on the roof across from me! Enjoy your birds, I'm glad they keep you going.
Whenever it works for you, Ruth, I am glad to read your words, love that you're finding joy in the birds & sharing a poem new for all of us to love! Keep on sharing when you have a break! Thanks for that poem, such creative ways to show a bird's call.
Thanks Ruth for “the bird who pinks on a jeweller's hammer” and for wonder which is always a treat, as your ponderings with 🦅
New activities/changes take time, too much sometimes, I’m prepping for another new class at the Chicago Art Institute this summer, while continuing to teach, and is taking a good amount of time… so glad I have so many more bird songs around to keep me wondering, thanks!
I've been listening to birds from Highlights Foundation retreat this week - birds I don't normally hear in AZ. One is a woodpecker who is hammering away on this cold, windy day. I look for him, but cannot see him - camouflaged perhaps against the old wood barn. Invisible bird. :)
I am so happy that you have shared this poem. It’s a wonderful poem. And you are teaching French? Wow.
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