When you write about one thing you are often writing about another.
The post about the goldfinches was really about a poem, the way you can sometimes read a poem and feel that punch in the gut reminder to wake up! wake up!
The poem was this one by William Stafford. To be honest, he’s a quiet, unassuming kind of poet but his work gets right under my skin, calling me to notice, to write, to remember to notice the morning.
Just lying on the couch and being happy.
Only humming a little, the quiet sound in the head.
Trouble is busy elsewhere at the moment, it has
so much to do in the world.
People who might judge are mostly asleep; they can’t
monitor you all the time, and sometimes they forget.
When dawn flows over the hedge you can
get up and act busy.
Little corners like this, pieces of Heaven
left lying around, can be picked up and saved.
People won’t even see that you have them,
they are so light and easy to hide.
Later in the day you can act like the others.
You can shake your head. You can frown.
~ William Stafford
There are goldfinches at the feeder, the first time since we’ve been here. The birds are rotating, as if in a dance: greenfinches, goldfinches, a thrush, then again, the greenfinches then the goldfinches, and their colour takes my breath away, they fill my heart with wonder, and I can’t stop watching them, how everything in a moment can be so much lighter.