Bird Song, Cannon River Bottoms by Joyce Sutphen | Saturday, November 04, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor
Manage episode 190873551 series 5351
I stopped for the sound,
thinking of the end of Keats’s ode,
The cars on the distant road
replaced the lamb’s loud bleat,
and bicyclists went whirling by.
of trills and twitterings
filled the stadium of the air—
then faded away
as quickly as they came.
Two men on roller blades went by,
a siren wailed.
I heard the sound of wings
…and slowly it started up again—
a tweet, a chirp,
a long sentence in a language
that may have been lark.
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