Squeaks and whistles, twills and tweets

Surround the damp forest as it towels off

From a spring cliché

I have to smile at the thought

That these wrens, finches, sparrows

The whole avian population in fact

Are all that’s left of the dinosaurs

With their trumpets and bellows of shock and awe

Maybe you can imagine the surprise

A reincarnated dinosaur must feel

Coming back as a bird

After all those hundreds and hundreds of recycled soul experiences

Dinosaurs being around for ages after all

There were probably some pretty strong old souls

Travelling that destiny from fierce predation to some version of wisdom

But even the Dalai Lama of dinosaurs would be a little shaken

Reawakened as a feathered sprite

Darting from branch to leaf

The only thing large left to cling to is birdsong

Filling the space that once contained such majesty



David Trudel  © 2013




Filed under Poetry

4 responses to “Birdsong

  1. Seb

    A poem for the rising above.

  2. Thank you all! It is really a thrill to get such comments. I’m humbled.

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