Catbird
Mary Oliver
From one branch to another, or across the path,
he dazzles with flight.
Since I see him every morning, I have rewarded myself
the pleasure of thinking that he knows me.
Yet never once has he answered my nod.
He seems, in fact, to find in me a kind of humor,
I am so vast, uncertain and strange.
I am the one who comes and goes,
and who knows why.
Will I ever understand him?
Certainly he will never understand me, or the world
I come from.
For he will never sing for the kingdom of dollars.
For he will never grow pockets in his gray wings.
This is the last part of a poem by Mary Oliver called Catbird. I relate to this part of the poem because I have experienced such moments with Goldfinches, Robins, and Chickadees. I especially like where she writes, “Since I see him every morning, I have rewarded myself the pleasure of thinking that he knows me.” Yes, I talk to birds!
It is a cold fall morning with 43 degrees. I saw where Berthoud Pass had an overnight low of 18 degrees, so it’s actually warm here. After yesterday’s winds the cloudless skies are beautiful. This mornings full moon cast shadows across the meadow at the natural area. Now a mocha latte. Have an Awesome day!
