***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.

Comments about ***the Bird Tree

accurate observations recorded so laerly I can envisage that splendid tree although I am unfamiliar with that species of bird I have seen our native starlings performing the same ritual
dear debora, your poetry are of intellectual type. good write. i will keep reading.
Is this '''Debora's Double Our Pleasure Night'''? lol! Yir masterpiece cloned itself....talk about the reflection of nayure ! ....Excellent Work, lass... Another imageful gem-pen, indeed...As if i expected anything less! P.S...Is it possible that while writing this upon the apex of Mountaintop Cottage, that yir' written words echoed along with yir' voice...lol...(Sorry, my dear...the child in me has been un-corked...stand clear & far) ~ FjR ~ ..2008..
Debora, as always, your beautiful Mountain Cottage Poetry brings with it more of a sense of peace and calm than just about any I have ever read. It always is written from a sense of 'being there, ' and there is never anything phony or made-up about it. Makes me want to come there again, in every season, just to soak in such peace and harmony.


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