Of Blackbirds

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.


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§ 2 Responses to Of Blackbirds

  • Death Zen says:

    Graceful, mesmerizing, with a remarkable image. Is it a photograph?


  • Magda Kapa says:

    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!)


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