#birds

Here is the soundless cypress on the lawn: It listens, listens. Taller trees beyond Listen. The moon at the unruffled pond Stares. And you sing, you sing. That star-enchanted song falls through the air From lawn to lawn down terraces of sound, Darts in white arrows on the shadowed ground; And all the night you sing. My dreams are flowers to which you are a bee As all night long I listen, and my brain Receives your song, then loses it again In moonlight on the lawn. Now is your voice a marble high and white, Then like a mist on fields of paradise, Now is a raging fire, then is like ice, Then breaks, and it is dawn. ↗

— Harold Monro

#nightingales #song #dreams

He regarded Huginn as only slightly more dangerous than most pets, in that he understood why people had pets but harbored the paranoia they would one day eat their owners. True, it kept Eliot from even having a pet larger than his fist, but it also kept him from being kibble. ↗

— Thomm Quackenbush

#cats #dogs #paranoia #pets #dreams

The moment a little boy is concerned with which is a jay and which is a sparrow, he can no longer see the birds or hear them sing. ↗

— Eric Berne

#birds #boy #concerned #hear #jay

LONG LIVE... This country is but a wish of the spirit, a counter-sepulcher. In my country, tender proofs of spring and badly dressed birds are preferred to far-off goals. Truth waits for dawn beside a candle. Window glass is neglected. To the watchful, what does it matter? In my country, we don't question a man deeply moved. There is no malignant shadow on the capsized boat. A cool hello is unknown in my country. We borrow only what can be returned increased. There are leaves, many leaves, on the trees in my country. The branches are free to bear no fruits. We don't believe in the good faith of the victor. In my country, we say thank you. ↗

— René Char

#counter-sepulcher #madness #spirit #the-dawn-breakers #trees

I'm not prepared for Rue's family. Her parents, whose faces are still fresh with sorrow. Her fiver younger siblings, who resemble her so closely. The slight builds, the luminous brown eyes. They form a flock of small dark birds. ↗

— Suzanne Collins

#birds #grief #family

I pray to the birds because they remind me of what I love rather than what I fear. And at the end of my prayers, they teach me how to listen. ↗

— Terry Tempest Williams

#prayer #family

Hey, ants!" she shouted. "Please help. Anteater is very hungry, but cannot find any food. ↗

— Emlyn Chand

#birds #children #children-s-books #emlyn-chand #evolved-publishing

Birdsong foamed in the hour-before-dawn garden. ↗

— David Mitchell

#nature #nature

She decided to free herself, dance into the wind, create a new language. And birds fluttered around her, writing “yes” in the sky. ↗