Noun; The belief that all things in nature have a soul.
Since no one knows what souls look like, I’ve not included an image today.
The bird you captured is dead.
I told you it would die
but you would not learn
from my telling. You wanted
to cage a bird in yours hands
and learn to fly.
You must not handle birds.
They cannot fly through your fingers.
You are not a nest
and a feather is
not made of blood and bone.
can fly for you like birds
on the wall of the sun.
A bird is a poem
that talks about the end of cages.
A new idea I had for doing a poem of the month. I thought this one was appropriate for the season (though we have birds all seasons) and as a writer. I really love the simple language Patrick Lane uses here to express something very meaningful.
Last week saw me packing and cleaning my Vancouver apartment, and last Thursday saw me entering the Vancouver airport, bound for Saskatoon, and eventually Prince Albert. I made it in late Thursday night after a delay in lift off. My Dad and two surprise people, my Mom and Sister were there! It took an hour and a bit to get to their house here. I was greeted by a wiggle waggling Charlie Bow, a walrus-like Barking Loki Dog, and a jumpy dance-y Sylvia Hound.
My cats, Dean and Dagney took run of what had been known as “Sylvia’s room” and is now the room I sleep in. I share this room with Sylvia, Dean, Dagney, and Bean who is their mother. That night Dagney got into one of the vents. My dad woke me up and we couldn’t find her. Finally we found her in the vents, but she wouldn’t come out, and didn’t. Until 14 hours later.
Since I have been here I saw the llama twice, who lives close by, seems to just hang out and wander around.
Twice I have seen the cows, some of them even charging out of the woods and across the pathway I was on. They moo a lot, and some of them wear blue bells around their neck. There are some younger cows too, who are the three I first saw. I thought they were pretty big, but then I saw the grown up ones! I got some nice photos of them on my film camera.
Before my Dad went back to his work site camp we went for a walk around their property and we went into this wetland area, that I am calling a bog for now, until I know if it really is a bog or not. There’s a whole bunch of dead trees in the area, and there’s a decent amount of moss around.
Last night my Dad called from his camp and told us he could see the Northern Lights, so myself, my mom and sister all went outside to check it out. Here the only light pollution is from the house. The stars are only ever obscured by clouds, last night there were none to be seen, the stars were bright and the Northern Lights almost as bright, greens and reds could be seen on ‘opposite’ sides of the sky.
A few nights I’ve also heard coyotes yipping and howling. I am excited to find what else this Northern Prairie land has to offer!