MotherReader

I’m going to hope that with Kelly, and Liz, and Jen back online, that I will no longer be the keeper of the Poetry Friday links. It is somewhat akin to Mel Gibson hosting the neighborhood Seder. Not that I ever called it f***ing poetry. Okay, well once. But it was tenth grade and Tennyson was kicking my ass...

Today I have a traditional-type poetry book about birds. An odd choice considering that I don’t think much about birds. But I saved this book since it hadn’t been checked out for two years and was facing the ax. It’s only four years old. Such a baby!

The various bird poems in Wings on the Wind were collected and illustrated by Kate Kiesler. She has arranged them seasonally, starting with the spring. The poems are of the traditional sort — no wacky poetry here — and the pictures are soft and sweet and very lovely. In tribute to my last trip to the beach this summer, I’ll share with you a section from Celia Thaxter’s “The Sandpiper”:

Across the lonely beach we flit,
      One little sandpiper and I;
And fast I gather, bit by bit,
      The scattered driftwood, bleached and dry.
The wild waves reach their hands for it,
      The wild wind raves, the tide runs high,
As up and down the beach we flit —
      One little sandpiper and I.

I suspect the beach will not be lonely when we go on Saturday, but I know it will be fun. I also have another visit with my cutie-pie niece. I may even be babysitting her for the night, which would be very cool.