There is always something magical about birdsong. Yesterday I heard a wren sing for the first time in many years. For the briefest moment nothing else was heard and the world stopped.
Birdsong brings relief
to my longing.
I am just as ecstatic as they are,
but with nothing to say!
Please, universal soul, practice
some song, or something, through me!
Rumi
I do not know which to prefer
The beauty of inflections
or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after
Wallace Stevens, Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
