Bluebirds in Late Winter

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Hi all. I hope you are having a poetic day. I recently discovered an unfinished poem in my  drafts of an email I hadn’t used in years. What is interesting, to me, is that it was begun before I learned that my mother loves bluebirds. She shared with me that seeing bluebirds is a very emotional and spiritual experience to her; like God is showing her that everything is going to be ok. I love this. Perhaps you, too, have a symbolic experience like this with something that you see in nature? Something that stills your heart, centers you, and touches your spirit in a way that defies explanation? I hope that in nature you have these experiences and cherish them. Another interesting thing about this poem is that the other bird mentioned is my favorite bird, Cedar Waxwings. At the time I began writing this, that collaboration was not intentional, but now it is very special to me. As writers, it is sometimes difficult to adequately express how we feel about our loved ones. How could one ever show the depth of those emotions in their poetry? Well, we try. And with that, this poem is for my mother, a truly beautiful spirit in this world.

I hope that you will enjoy Bluebirds in Late Winter as much as I enjoyed re-discovering it, and polishing it up to completion. Please, do, share your thoughts with me on this meaningful poem.

Bluebirds in Late Winter

Surprising blue spirits descend
transforming snow-covered fences.
They search the snow for pieces of Spring
to pull from sleepy ground.
They carve spaces in the sky
for her to enter.

Flashes of red tuck under as
Waxwings alight, all stern and masked
They pluck berries
Shift and bounce and disperse,
Leaving the bluebirds
To sing of Spring.

Poetry by Christina Ward

February 2019

2 thoughts on “Bluebirds in Late Winter

  1. Bees, before they left town gave me hope. Now, I depend on spiders and their webs. We never kill spiders who enter the house and aren’t found out by the cat, and if we find one before he plays with it to death, we trap it gently in a cup and place it in the garden outside. When I’m groping for imagery, I rely on spiders to spin a bit of silk in my mind – not so much like cobwebs, but the kind that glisten with moisture at dawn.

    Like

  2. Nature is the best teacher. The most generous giver of inspiration! It sounds like we are on the same wavelength. And odd reading this because I spent much of the day formulating a plan to write about the plight of the honeybee…

    Thank you for reading and for your beautiful comment.

    Liked by 1 person

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