The Bird Tree Poem by Debora Short

For the large flock of tri - colored blackbirds
Who travel through each spring to these lovely hollows.


Before the evening sky
Morphs shades of brilliant coral
And streaks whimsically of lavender
Threading, too with surreal magenta translucencies
And before English Mountain
Changes into her misty purple evening attire
And certainly before
The stars crown her majestic countenance…
That tall tree sitting squarely
Above our cedars in the forest
Down near the Shropshire Hollow begins
Calling its special evening guests ~

The ritual begins with a lone lady
Sitting quietly atop
The very tip of the highest bough
Of that unusual tree each night,
It’s thorny branches soaring upward
Near 80 feet…still devoid of
It’s spring-time dress
The nectarine and cherry trees
Already adorned in lovely floral frocks…

Those seasoned migrants
Begin an ancient bedtime rite
One small group after another
Quietly descend to the Bird Tree
Soon these gregarious songsters
Begin their evening calling
To the surrounding hollows.
Humming expounds noisily
As if they were seated
In a large room for telephone operators
Calling their kids home to
Supper and lullabies…

And home these small wanderers come
From all directions
From neighboring hollows and
Lake Douglas, too…
As each group arrives their singing
Ceases as they pensively search
Their perching sites to see who is missing…
Then again, their lovely chattering restarts
Until every member safely returns home.

Just as the evening sky
Morphs shades of brilliant coral
And streaks whimsically of lavender
Threading, too with surreal magenta translucencies

To the those ancient cedars
Off each group flies below
Tucking each other in those
Blue-green covers for one last lullaby … before
The stars crown their majestic hostess.


April 4,2006 ~
Mountaintop Cottage, Tennessee


















The Bird Tree

For the large flock of tri -colored blackbirds
Who travel through each spring to these lovely hollows.


Before the evening sky
Morphs shades of brilliant coral
And streaks whimsically of lavender
Threading, too with surreal magenta translucencies
And before English Mountain
Changes into her misty purple evening attire
And certainly before
The stars crown her majestic countenance…
That tall tree sitting squarely
Above our cedars in the forest
Down near the Shropshire Hollow and
Calls its special evening guests ~

The ritual begins with a lone lady
Sitting quietly atop
The very tip of the highest bough
Of that unusual tree each night,
It’s thorny branches soaring upward
Near 80 feet…still devoid of
It’s spring-time dress
The nectarine and cherry trees
Already adorned in lovely floral frocks…

Those seasoned migrants
Begin an ancient bedtime rite
One small group after another
Quietly descend to the Bird Tree
Soon these gregarious songsters
Begin their evening calling
To the surrounding hollows
Humming expounds noisily
As if they were seated
In a large room for telephone operators
Calling their kids home to
Supper and lullabies…

And home these small wanderers come
From all directions
From neighboring hollows and
Lake Douglas, too…
As each group arrives their singing
Ceases as they pensively search
Their perching sites to see who is missing…
Then again, their lovely chattering restarts
Until every member safely returns home.

Just as the evening sky
Morphs shades of brilliant coral
And streaks whimsically of lavender
Threading, too with surreal magenta translucencies

To the those ancient cedars
Off each group flies below
Tucking each other in those
Blue-green covers for one last lullaby … before
The stars crown their majestic hostess.