Hi Anthony,Thank you. Nice to see you're still active in this blogging world.
Sounds lovely and lovely sounds too. k.
Birds are such an important facet of my life. I really love the way you have created the focus in this poem.
This is the kind of poem that opens the eye and the heart, and sends them looking... I like it.
May we always hear the new bird singing.
They sound exquisite when they are in the rafters and not readily seen. Hank
Sing it strong, no matter how humble the theater!
wonderful place to sing from...
I'm liking this, Yvonne. I wonder what kind of bird it is? That's the first thing you brought to my mind. Second was, "I'm not sure I know exactly what a haymow is. Hay meadow or hayloft?" I opted for hayloft but consulted my on-line dictionary to make sure. Yes, 'hayloft'. We called ours 'haymow' also but now for some reason I say 'hayloft'. Third was the time I fell out of the haymow, through the trap door in the floor through which we dropped hay down. Landed flat on my back knocking the wind out of me. I can't remember if Dad found me laying on the floor or not. I know it hurt my back. Next was all the good play times I had there, it was my getaway place. There I stashed my contraband, like comic books which Mom forbid us to have. Later I would store my cigarettes under the eves. Sometimes my sister would come also, she was five years younger than me. She got sick smoking with me and quit smoking on the spot. We didn't smoke in the loft. Lastly I tried to remember if there were any birds living up there. Perhaps there were sparrows, we had a lot of them and blackbirds. The black birds nested in the trees but I think the sparrows were in the eves. So I think your poet's new birds were younger sparrows. They have a sweet song and not so very loud as their mothers. ..BTW, my maternal grandmother was an Osborne, from Wisconsin. Might we be cousins? Her mother was 'Mary Ann Smith' from England. We believe that name was an alias...
Just...lovely. How much you captured in so few words.
Yvonne! What a brilliant writer's retreat. Great verse, and the picture looks like it was taken in my hay mow (except mine is full of bat droppings! Good to "see" you again.
I can't tell you the number of times I have been brushing my horse in the barn and a bird sings... and I try to locate it in the rafters - NOT an easy task man a time. :)
Thanks everyone for your comments! I feel like this blog is my writing group. Even when I'm long absent, you are all still here.Margaret, yes they are illusive little creatures.Mary,thanks! I sure love the haymow, the smells of sustenance.Liza,thank you!Jim, we have a lot of the same memories-lots of those hidden chutes to throw the haw down. We always called it a haymow vs. a hayloft. And of course, the straw loft was called the straw mow! Good to hear from you again.Sherry, thank you!Brudberg,Thanks. It is a wonderful place to write in a journal too!Fireblossom, it is a rather humble theater, but a theater nonetheless!Hank, yes, their hidden nature makes them all the more mysterious.Hedgewitch, Yes, Thanks!Magaly, Thank you!!Kerry,Thank you and thank you for the prompt, which helped me find a place for my words.Lawyer, Are you a lawyer?:) Thank you!
How beautiful, to hear a new bird's song.
Sherry,I meant to say thank you.Thank you!
Thanks to All!
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