Image by Virginia DeBolt
The overhead wires, normally full of birds this early in the morning, looked a bit different today. Balloons dotted the sky like notes on a scale. My though was, “Is that a treble clef or a bass clef?” How would their song sound? Quiet but with an occasional burst of air and heat. Serene but exciting. Bracingly cold and invigorating. Such music.
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Bird on a Wire….
We’ve all seen them, either singularly or lined up on the wire standing like small statues surveying the landscape below. What happens when their size increases tenfold and then the bird on the wire is not, instead he on your house? Unbelievable as it sounds, we did not notice at first. The darkness settled in and this undistinguishable high pitched noise was heard from within our house. Ignoring it was not possible! With spot light in hand, we ventured out on the deck. Glaring down at us with big yellow eyes was …..
BIRD ON A WIRE
Wooden clothes pegs in mouth, cold-reddened hands pinning laundry on the line. A meagre sun seeps between frustrated clouds. She carries the stiffened clothing gloveless, her tiny frost-bitten feet shoeing deep Ontario snow back into the house, the incisive eye of one lonesome bird on a wire her undoing.
JAM © 9Oct2012
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