Poem: Strange Birds II

Last time, I shared a poem with you written in response to a day’s walking in Norfolk, close to Wild Ken Hill. More especially, it was about the birds we encountered. It was so uplifting to hear, and to see, so many creatures that were unknown to us, and most especially to hear songs we had never heard before. It’s an awe-inspiring, hopeful place. I’m not suprised that Springwatch chose it as their base this year.
You can read the poem, and find links to interesting stuff, here.

That night, as I drifted off to sleep, I heard more. This is a falling-asleep snippet as I drifted off to the sound of more strange birds. I hear owls at home, from time to time, but a nightjar was beautiful and new to me. I’d found out about them while we were doing another walk, nearer home. The Sandlings walk takes the nightjar as its waymarker, and has artwork showing the nightjar – and its food the moth – to search for as you walk.

We never heard one – unsurprisingly, as we walked that route by day. One of the magical things of staying near the sanctuary of Wild Ken Hill is that we heard these night-creatures, at last. It seemed a fitting end to a day in which we had encountered so much richness, so much abundant life.

I was half wondering if a nightingale would join in. Not this time, but I have heard them near home before, and you can read about that here.

Photo from the Woodland Trust

Strange Birds II

I lie awake, head full of
the sound of daybirds,
and slowly, slipping over
these new songs
now known by heart,
come night cries –
such life as lives
in darkness.

First the owl, mottled
and shadowed in leafing trees,
and then the night-jar’s
churning and rumbling
down low, in rough ground

and as I drift into dreams
with these strange guides,
these gentle sounds and soft,
there is a moment
when I can wonder –

Where will they lead me,
through unseen nightscapes,
both strange and new,
and strangely old –
where will they take me –
through what dreams
of hope,
both green and dark,
will they carry me
on their brown wings?

One thought on “Poem: Strange Birds II

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