Print

Print


Thank you, Bob, for sharing this.  It is simply beautiful - I can hear him
as I read it!

Margy Terpstra
Kirkwood, MO


----- Original Message -----
From: "Robert Fisher" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Wednesday, September 01, 2004 11:27 AM
Subject: The Message of the Wood Thrush


Some of you know that I am a struggling poet. As such, I have been invited
to read  tonight at a "Poet's for Peace" event in Kansas City.  One poem I
intend to read is a sonnet (albeit one with a couplet thyme scheme) that I
wrote several years ago. It goes like this:

THE MESSAGE OF THE SKY

Sky, what message do you send tonight,
coming at the speed of light?
Of what events a billion years ago
are we just now supposed to know?
Can roaring blasts so many years grown cold
in silence have their story told?
Do fiery bursts now send their word
in twinkled whispers barely heard?
We know the essence of a star
is final war seen from afar.
The sky, which seems to us at peace
is holocaust without surcease.
Infernal fusion there portends
our doom unless our warfare ends.

I did not want to read such a Doomsday poem as THE MESSAGE OF THE SKY and
leave it at that, so I set about to write a second short poem to read after
it.

My first attempt started "We humans are just grains of sand, caught up in
the ocean's constant warfare with the land" and went on to say, poetically,
how helpless I feel about my inability to stop the wars which have
assaulted mankind for thousands of years like waves striking the beach.
True, perhaps, but not the right thing to read at a "Poets for Peace" event.

I then wrote another beach poem, which had the autumn storms assaulting the
beach, leaving all sorts of wreckage on its surface; milder then elements
then moved in buried the wreckage in the sand, leading to a peaceful scene
of a snow white beach and calm dark blue ocean in winter. OK. At least it
has a peaceful ending. But where's the hope?

Finally, the following very short poem came to me:

THE MESSAGE OF THE WOOD THRUSH

After the storm,
when the thunder
and the lightning
and the hard-pouring rain
have stopped,
while the leaves are still dripping,
the Wood Thrush sings his flute-like song.
Tee-o-lee. Tee-o-lay, he sings.
It's time to look for the rainbow.


Bob Fisher
Independence, Missouri
[log in to unmask]

__________________________________________________
*        Audubon Society of Missouri's           *
*         Wild Bird Discussion Forum             *
*------------------------------------------------*
* To unsubscribe send the message                *
*    SIGNOFF MOBIRDS-L                           *
* to [log in to unmask]                    *
* To subscribe send the message                  *
* SUBSCRIBE MOBIRDS-L your name                  *
* to [log in to unmask]                    *
*------------------------------------------------*
* To access the list archives from July 2002 on: *
* http://po.missouri.edu/archives/mobirds-l.html *
*                                                *
* To access the Audubon Society of Missouri Web  *
* Site:  http://www.mobirds.org                  *
##################################################

__________________________________________________
*        Audubon Society of Missouri's           *
*         Wild Bird Discussion Forum             *
*------------------------------------------------*
* To unsubscribe send the message                *
*    SIGNOFF MOBIRDS-L                           *
* to [log in to unmask]                    *
* To subscribe send the message                  *
* SUBSCRIBE MOBIRDS-L your name                  *
* to [log in to unmask]                    *
*------------------------------------------------*
* To access the list archives from July 2002 on: *
* http://po.missouri.edu/archives/mobirds-l.html *
*                                                *
* To access the Audubon Society of Missouri Web  *
* Site:  http://www.mobirds.org                  *
##################################################