This morning I saw two birds in the bird bath in the garden splashing and whisking their wings with apparent delight while I read a book in my study.-Ron Price
I have bought two new books from the Baha’i bookshop
and am reading them in my study
looking out over the garden
on a warm summer morning, in a suburb of Perth.
My West Australian weeping peppermint tree weeps,
and the Lilly Pilly stamens blow everywhere like snow.
Birds dance in the bird bath at the rear of the garden
keeping cool and clean as summer heads to its centre.
Our new washing machine zings along, round-and-round
and my wife bustles. She always bustles in her morning.
I read on wondering how yet another book
in this massive congregation will dance and fly,
twisting its wings in the sun as it heads to unknown
heights far beyond this blue garden of light; wondering
too whether there will be much more weeping as
there has been with former books which have flown
into my life like snow, blowing cold, seering arctic winds.
Perhaps at last now I will fly, soon, wing my flight and
dance the dance on the leaves and fruits of consecrated joy.
Ron Price
12 January 1998
married for 47 years, a teacher for 32, a student for 18, a writer and editor for 15, and a Baha'i for 55(in 2014).
A comment like yours, Night Parrot, is always appreciated as the bird that is my life flies into its 70s. One's 70s are the last decade of late-adulthood according to one model of human development used by psychologists. It is a model I like because old-age begins at 80 in this model, giving me another ten years to fly before I'm "old."-Ron Price, Australia
married for 47 years, a teacher for 32, a student for 18, a writer and editor for 15, and a Baha'i for 55(in 2014).
While here I'll post another prose-poem about a bird-bath.-Ron Price, Tasmania
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THE BIRD BATH
This morning I saw two birds in the bird bath in the garden splashing and whisking their wings with apparent delight while I read a book in my study.-Ron Price
I have bought two new books from the Baha’i bookshop
and am reading them in my study
looking out over the garden
on a warm summer morning, in a suburb of Perth.
My West Australian weeping peppermint tree weeps,
and the Lilly Pilly stamens blow everywhere like snow.
Birds dance in the bird bath at the rear of the garden
keeping cool and clean as summer heads to its centre.
Our new washing machine zings along, round-and-round
and my wife bustles. She always bustles in her morning.
I read on wondering how yet another book
in this massive congregation will dance and fly,
twisting its wings in the sun as it heads to unknown
heights far beyond this blue garden of light; wondering
too whether there will be much more weeping as
there has been with former books which have flown
into my life like snow, blowing cold, seering arctic winds.
Perhaps at last now I will fly, soon, wing my flight and
dance the dance on the leaves and fruits of consecrated joy.
Ron Price
12 January 1998
married for 47 years, a teacher for 32, a student for 18, a writer and editor for 15, and a Baha'i for 55(in 2014).
Poetry now! The forum is getting to be quite cultured!.
A comment like yours, Night Parrot, is always appreciated as the bird that is my life flies into its 70s. One's 70s are the last decade of late-adulthood according to one model of human development used by psychologists. It is a model I like because old-age begins at 80 in this model, giving me another ten years to fly before I'm "old."-Ron Price, Australia
married for 47 years, a teacher for 32, a student for 18, a writer and editor for 15, and a Baha'i for 55(in 2014).