“The birds sang in the wet trees
And I listened to them it was a hundred years from now
And I was dead and someone else was listening to them.
But I was glad I had recorded for him
The melancholy.”
Patrick Kavanagh
Thank you Patrick I heard them too
verses clear as the years since
uncluttered lyrical lines on the page
straight from heart to mouth
though the trees are not always wet
Robin tunes up quietly at first
autumn mist in its throat
a farewell melody to a faded season
and blackbirds hymn the day is done
high in a broadleaf tree
though birds are not always so doleful
one minuscule wren with a giocosa call
can compose cantatas every Spring
and Hardy’s thrush threw gloom
to the wind with carolling
yet we who absorb the hue of blue
note most the melancholy mood
Taking inspiration from a recently discovered poet – Patrick Kavanagh – and a little late entry for the Toad’s Tuesday Platform
PoetryPix 