Monday, August 26, 2013

Baby Wrens’ Voices


I am a student of wrens.
When the mother bird returns
to her brood, beak squirming
with winged breakfast, a shrill
clamor rises like jingling
from tiny, high-pitched bells.
Who'd have guessed such a small
house contained so many voices?
The sound they make is the pure sound
of life's hunger. Who hangs our house
in the world's branches, and listens
when we sing from our hunger?
Because I love best those songs
that shake the house of the singer,
I am a student of wrens.


Because I love best those songs
that shake the house of the singer,



Reprinted from KINNICKINNIC, Parallel Press, Madison, WI, 2008.  Copyright 2008 Thomas R. Smith.  Used with the author’s permission.





1 comment:

  1. This poem arrived in my inbox this morning, my Poetry Foundation "poem of the day". I love it's gentleness. It's clarity. Plainspoken elegance. I wrote to Thomas Smith and asked if I could share it here and he said YES.

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