Birdsong #poetry

Every day, I waken to birdsong:
sometimes the lark and thrush, sweet twittering
or the sparrow and the chaffinch, cheerful chattering
or the rook, cawing in raucous symphony:
signature calls, all poetry to me

Your touch draws out a different kind of birdsong
low moaning, from a hollow deep in me
transformed through love into a holy plainsong
where never sin, nor pain,
nor wrong could be

Just simple beauty, couched in bowered bliss
the thrillsong of a passion whispered soft,
rough-smoothly sung through barely parted lips
not any more, nor any less than this

ยฉ 2022ย experimentsinfiction.com. All Rights Reserved.

Sharing with earthweal’s weekly challenge, ‘An Ear for Wild Language.’

48 thoughts on “Birdsong #poetry

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  1. ‘Tis the pagan paradise inside this rapture of birds, a prechristian wilderness without sin (as the monks explained Tis na Og). An aural plenty and it resonates deep within the body. Thanks Ingrid –

  2. How I love this! Especially “transformed through love into a holy plainsong” and those last gorgeous closing lines. No one could ask any more than such sweetness. Just lovely.

  3. There is no wilder language than the language of the heart , the body, the self, and you give us a full song of it to hear with ear and soul in this. I love the birdsong analogy.

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