There is a legend about a bird which sings only once in its life, more beautifully than any other creature on the face of the earth. From the moment it leaves its nest, it searches for a thorn tree, and does not rest until it has found one. Then, it impales its breast on the longest, sharpest thorn. But as it is dying, it rises above its own agony to out sing the Lark and the Nightingale. The Thorn Bird pays its life for that one song, and the whole world stills to listen, and God in his heaven smiles, as its best is brought only at the cost of great pain; driven to the thorn with no knowledge of the dying to come. But when we press the thorn to our breast, we know, we understand... and still, we do it.
Colleen McCullough, The Thorn Birds
Last week, on my birthday, I heard the tell-tale thud, as this little fella crashed into the glass of the french doors, and fell to the rain-drenched cedar deck. From inside, I watched, helpless, as he gasped his last few breaths. At least, I thought, this beautiful creature deserves to be remembered with a photo, before he becomes part of earth's patina.
Speaking of patina, please check out this excellent review of my new poetry chapbook PATINA, published this summer by Finishing Line Press, by Poet, Critic, Blogger Jenne’ R. Andrews, whose work has appeared in a number of journals including, most recently ; her collections include the small press book , Lynx House Press, , Leaping Mountain Press, and , Minnesota Writers’ Publishing House, edited by Robert Bly. She posts work in draft at in addition to submitting individual work and book-length collections to journals and presses. She has recently been writing “Rilke variations”—an exercise that has become a vital part of her daily writing practice.
Click here to purchase PATINA from Amazon.