June 22, 2013 § 2 Comments
There’s a question mark in the higher tones of the blackbird’s song, a disbelief for the beauty of the falling night.
And the night falls again and again, for the love of the doubting blackbird.
My blackbird moved a few trees further, to the neighbour’s garden. Now in the air, tones of someone practicing the piano across the street.
These long nights, in their light blue sweetness, transmit sounds the way we’d carry a sleeping child in our arms.
If I can only talk about blackbirds it’s because these days they stop the time for me. I open the window and evenings melt into their song.
Tagged: tweets, twitter
Graceful, mesmerizing, with a remarkable image. Is it a photograph?
Yes, it’s a photograph taken with my iPhone (older model and has had quite a few accidents) but sometimes it catches the magic of the light better than anything else. (Sorry for being so late with my answers, but always thankful for your comments!)
Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:
You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Google+ account. ( Log Out / Change )
Connecting to %s
Notify me of new comments via email.
Notify me of new posts via email.
« All The Words: June 2013
All The Words: May 2013 »
You are currently reading Of Blackbirds at I was not born in English.
Blog at WordPress.com.