Now
Let's look for birds!
The tall iron branches
in the forest,
The dense
fertility on the ground.
The world
is wet.
A dewdrop or raindrop
shines,
a diminutive star
among the leaves.
The morning time
mother earth
is cool.
The air
is like a river
which shakes
the silence.
It smells of rosemary,
of space
and roots.
Overhead,
a crazy song.
It's a bird.

Luminous ease!
Invisible
power
torrent
of music
in the leaves.
Sacred conversations!
Clean and fresh washed
is this
day resounding
like a green dulcimer...

You can't touch them.
You can hear them
like a heavenly
rustle or movement.
They converse
with precision.
They repeat
their observations.
They brag
of how much they do.
They comment
on everything that exists...

Images above (and on front-page mastheads) by Jeanelle McCall. Top (and front-page mastheads): "Misty Haze." Middle: "I Feel Good This Morning." Bottom: "Woodpecker, cyan plate."

Words above from “Ode to Bird Watching” by Pablo Neruda, translated by Jodey Bateman. Full text HERE