I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven. Emily Dickinson [i]
My eyes on the body sink into Jacobean darkness
weird gemstone eyes briefly lift from the Lily Pilly,
see me well. Violet or lilac? I can’t decide.
We want a bower in our garden, Wyn made
a rough bower, of twigs arched to a tunnel
left blue pegs, an encouragement to recycle.
They are not birds of the sky who live for flying
like swifts or swallows, they keep close to ground
and sing like banshees tangled in metal scrap
Before the plastic spew, their hoard of berries,
seeds and butterfly wings was what’s natural
now being diluted all the time, day by day.
[i] Emily Dickinson 1885 letter to her cousin Miss Eugenia Hall:
Dear ‘Genie’ –
The lovely flower you sent me is like a little vase of spice, and fills the hall with cinnamon.
You must have skilful hands to make such sweet carnations. Perhaps your doll taught you. I know that dolls are sometimes wise. Robins are my dolls. I am glad you love the blossoms so well. I hope you love birds, too. It is economical. It saves going to Heaven.