Bird Poetry at Paper Poetry
A Good Day
With a single moment
A line of pigeons alights on the tin roof of the building next to the French bakery. Strolling through the shadows beneath a quarter moon, cricket songs rise, opening into the night as this early snap of cold silences summer to sleep. Further on my walk, a slight warmth escapes from an open door of the all-night laundromat, and my notice goes up to the eaves to see a father-bird huddled against a mother-bird on their tattered nest of twigs tucked just out of the wind. Floating from the laundromat door, I hear the unmistakable strains of Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite. My heart leaps with a horn blast, and I am transported to Paris, 1910. *
Tonight, an inevitable wonder comes to mind. How does one feel when things come in muted shades, experience shifts from the grand to scattered moments of a subtle joy, when absolutes soften to relativity. What if amidst disappointment can be a nuanced joy. Perhaps happiness resides in God’s will alone and within my discerning perception is the key. I ponder if it all comes down to spirit when it rises, when you learn to search deep to find what you need from what is.
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The grayness before dawn brightens with the new sun. Old scraps of newspaper mix among crisp leaves rising into the scene along Seventh Avenue. Later, there’s grace in a cool rain that glistens the street, and I find a stone large enough to kick along a whole block of crumbled sidewalk. Maybe sublimity can be a state of balance — a day without the slightest tinge of pain, a kind of beauty found in subdued light. And a day becomes a good day with a single moment idle enough to walk by and notice a pair of nesting pigeons.
© Elisa Affanato
* Igor Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite was first performed on June 25, 1910, at the Opéra de Paris.
I wish to thank the editors of Paper Poetry for their birds prompt and for providing a place for my poem.
Thank you, always, to my dear readers.







