Noticing c - Billy Collins's "The Birds of America"

Ha ha, I thought the other day when I wrote my last entry that it was day 100, but it turns out I skipped from 96 straight to 98. So I've corrected my error, and because I really wanted to end on day "c," here is one last, more or less randomly selected offering: a poem by one of my favorite poets.

The Birds of America

by Billy Collins

Summer or Wood Duck

Early this morning
in a rumpled bed,
listening to birdsong
through the propped-open windows,

I saw on the ceiling
the figure of John J. Audubon
kneeling before
the pliant body of an expired duck.

I could see its slender, limp neck,
rich chestnut crown,
the soft grey throat,
and bright red bill,

even the strange pink legs.
And when I closed my eyes again
I could hear him whisper
in his hybrid Creole accent

I have taken your life
so that some night a man
might open a book
and run his hand over your feathers,

so that he could come close enough
to study your pale brown flecks,
your white chin patch,
and the electric green of your neck,

so that he might approach 
without frightening you into the sky,
and wonder how strange 
to the earth he has become,

so that he might see by his lamp light
the glistening in your eye
then take to the air
and fly alongside you.


Here are some more of Audubon's paintings of the birds of America, all 435 of which are now available online.

American Magpie

Pinnated Grouse

Spotted Grouse

Roseate Spoonbill

Purple Heron

Sharp-tailed Finch

American Flamingo

Sooty Tern