With spring popping out all over, I think of  one of my favorite poets, and how she tenderly celebrates nature.  Her poem about two flickers in the springtime is a delight.  Here it is.  I hope you’ll enjoy it.–April Moore


All day the flicker
has anticipated
the lust of the season, by
shouting.  He scouts up
tree after tree and at
a certain place begins
to cry out.  My, in his
black-freckled vest, bay body with
red trim and sudden chrome
underwings, he is
dapper.  Of course somebody
listening nearby
hears him;  she answers
with a sound like hysterical
laughter, and rushes out into
the field where he is poised
on an old phone pole, his head
swinging, his wings
opening and shutting in a kind of
butterfly stroke.  She can’t
resist;  they touch;  they flutter.
How lightly, altogether, they accept
the great task, of carrying life
forward!  In the crown of an oak
they choose a small tree-cave
which they enter with sudden quietness
and modesty.  And, for a while,
the wind that can be
a knife or a hammer, subsides.
They listen
to the thrushes.
The sky is blue, or the rain
falls with its spills of pearl.
Around their wreath of darkness
the leaves of the world unfurl
      —–Mary Oliver

4 Responses to “Spring”

  1. Andi Miner Says:

    April, That was just charming. Made me want to go outside and sit in the woods. Andi

  2. Todd Says:

    My West Virginia grandparents called flickers “yellowhammers.” Ever hear that name in your parts?

  3. April Says:

    I’m not familiar with the name ‘yellowhammer.’ Maybe it refers to the yellow undersides of the bird’s wings.

  4. Jean Larson Says:

    That is a beautiful picture of the flickers. They almost look like they are made of clay and then painted. Our resident cardinal pairs are happily flying from one tree to another enjoying the fine spring weather.That was until this morning and the chilly weather returned. Hopefully it is only for a short while.

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