For the Birds
Lighter verse
For the Birds
We live in a world designed for birds.
Theirs is the windless voice of the trees,
theirs our roofs to alight as they please.
The small may harass the larger and slow;
the shorter may have the further to go.
Colorful, quick or languid and dull—
musical mockingbird, clamorous gull:
They gather and winnow, paddle and soar,
peer from the mountain, wander the shore,
loom in the evening, herald the light,
scavenge, regurgitate, shelter, and smite.
Anything, everything—all for the birds.
We live in a world designed for words.
I was working on this little ditty, following the desultory return of my interest in Colorado’s avian sphere—a typical aspect of early summer vacation for me—when I was pleased to read
’s reflections on poetic voice. His reference to Frost, Dawkins, and the language of birds is an especially helpful comparison to the development of an individual’s “voice” in a complex milieu of other voices—some intentionally and other passively absorbed as the “tradition” or templates according to which we create (or at least participate). The use of birds as analogue seemed to me a felicitous overlap with the subject of this poem, but the question of poetic voice felt even more relevant because, frankly, this bit of verse leans very light for me. I, who indulge a penchant for the chewy and the ponderous (even sometimes when I write nonsense verse), seem here to be channeling a voice that feels unfamiliar—too quick and easy, almost shallow in its tenor. I do not know if that is how it’ll strike you, but I was willing to risk it anyway. After all, one of the benefits of Substack is the relative accountability it can create for the production of new work. To write we need to keep writing, and others have warned about being so anxious about quality that it chokes out quantity. I wish I were as prolific and talented as , but I can only offer the voices that manage to squeeze through my own rusty conduit. Regardless, perhaps what it lacks in quality is partly made up for in brevity—that “soul of wit.”
I'm relatively new to Substack, but over the past few months or so, I've read enough of your work to understand what you mean when you say that this piece is a bit of a departure for you, having a quicker pace, a lighter tone and being flightier (you are considering, after all, birds) and more frivolous. Based on what I've seen, your poems are grounded in theology and might almost be called "devotional" poetry. It's fun to see you try something a bit different, and if this is the extent of your deviance, I think we can still safely include you among the ranks of the disciplined, serious poets. In any event, bird-brained me enjoyed it!