The Daily: 3 April 2024

We had one of the biggest snowfalls of the year on the next to last weekend of March. It was also very cold. The maple buds that were threatening to burst seemed to pull back, and all the snowdrops under my cedars were flattened. It seemed that winter had reclaimed the world, snatching our days back from the incipient spring.

However, two days after the storm it was bright and sunny, though still below freezing. And what happened? A flock of robins descended upon the neighborhood crabapples. Where did these birds come from? No idea… “south” presumably. They were not here before the storm, and now they are, busily clearing the freeze-dried drupes from all the ornamental fruit trees and bushes and chattering away with all the year-round birds. I can only imagine the tall tales of exotic travels being told to the gullible locals.

Robins are delightful, spring embodied, but there is another returning bird in my snowy jungle this week. The peregrines are back! I haven’t seen them yet, but they are making excessive claims for territory. There might even be more than one nesting pair — either that or this couple is working out some serious domestic discord for all of us to hear. In any case, with luck, this raptor will join the owls in hunting down the surplus rodents.

… which are daily destroying what is accessible in my garden… and on my porches… and probably in the walls of my house. The cat and I can hear them running around in the walls. It’s probably only a matter of time before they chew through the wiring and start a fire. However, hopefully, the return of the predators will reduce the rodent boisterousness. At least, they won’t be able to leisurely graze in my veg patch.

In any case, there are birds to begin this April! Truly something to look forward to each year!

And now here are a couple avian poems.

The first is something to look forward to. The second is a fool’s tale…

the cold descended
blasting down from arctic plains
winds ripping away our illusions
of safety, of security, of early springs
edgeless argent shrouds reflected 
wan sun’s slanting beams
leaving no heat
nor reprieve from marmot shadows

and in the gathering darkness
we draped all the windows
with wool and heirloom quilting
against the bitter boreal night
yet still the chill crept in
froze pipes, cracked glass
while we, mere fleshly beings,
cowered in blanket cave beds

and slept…

the morning bells of sun’s day
beckoned, betokening dawn
a wakening we did not foresee
so sure were we of destruction
but howling winds were stilled
steely skies now covered in cloud
holding close the warmth of the world
and we warily left our shelters

and as we looked out over the wrack
a flock of redpolls
chattering the day’s small news
settled in the craggy maple
contentedly nipping the swelling buds
as if winter never had been

Lord Pavo the Haughty
was known far and wide
for angelic mien
twinned with devilish pride.
He scorned all admirers,
for none met his measure.
His fine-feathered person
was his only true treasure.

But then came a day
when he chanced to espy
a beguiling brow
an enchanting eye.
How noble a chin!
What radiant complexion!
Such elegant form!
He deemed it perfection.

Struck down on the instant
by Cupid’s cruel dart,
this fair apparition
ensnared his cold heart.
But then when he reached out
his love to enfold,
he touched naught but vapor.
T’was nothing to hold.

And for many long years
he’s pursued misperception,
seeking solace in mirrors. 
But it’s only reflection.
Though he’s captured an image
he’ll ne’er feel love’s embrace,
for his elusive love
wears his very own face.

Wednesday Word

for 3 April 2024

fool

If you so choose, you can wax rhapsodic on foolishness in the comments below or go visit the All Poetry contest for April. Your response can be anything made from words. I love poetry, but anything can be poetic and you needn’t even be limited to poetics. An observation, a story, a thought. Might even be an image — however, I am not a visual person, so it has to work harder to convey meaning. In the spirit of word prompts, it’s best if you use the word; but I’m not even a stickler about that. Especially if you can convey the meaning without ever touching the word.

Even if you don’t choose to scribble, at least I’ve made you think about… fools.

©Elizabeth Anker 2024