I love my commute! To get to work each day, I drive on back roads through small towns and rural landscapes. The light and scenery changes with the time of day, the weather and the season, and I’m constantly surrounded by natural beauty. Even though I travel this route five days a week, it never bores me.
At this time of year there’s little color in the natural landscape and changes are more subtle. Trees are stark sentinels, tall and bare when not draped in snow. But this week I had one of those wonderful moments–a time when I saw something usual in a new and unexpected way. Against the backdrop of early morning skies, I saw some birds gathered and silhouetted at the end of a branch of a tree. The phrase “birds blossomed into a bouquet” popped into my mind. Here’s the resulting poem:
Winter Bouquet
At first light
winter sun lingers
under the horizon.
Barren branches silhouette
against indigo skies.
Birds perch in a feathery cluster,
and a branch is transformed,
blossoming into
a bouquet of crows,
each sleek black head
a burgeoning bud
against the blushing palette
of dawn.
Molly Hogan (c) 2016
This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by Linda Baie at her wonderful blog, TeacherDance. Be sure to stop by to enjoy some poetry.
Nix the comfort zone 
When are your favorite poems going to be book bound? Love this line from the intro – “Trees are stark sentinels, tall and bare when not draped in snow.” We have such lookouts to your south. You rocked the description –
“Birds perch in a feathery cluster,
and a branch is transformed,
blossoming into
a bouquet of crows,
each sleek black head
a burgeoning bud
against the blushing palette
of dawn.”
Again, less is more.
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Thanks, Dan! Glad you liked it. I’m ever thankful for the beauty that surrounds me here!
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I love the bouquet of crows against the stark sentinels of trees. This is a beautiful poem.
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Thanks, Kay.
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Just gorgeous, Molly. I often see groups of crows, but never all on a branch! I usually call them having a “crow party”. Love “Birds perch in a feathery cluster,
and a branch is transformed,
blossoming into
a bouquet of crows,” And I love your description of your commute. Driving out away in the country is a favorite thing to do.
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Thanks, Linda. I believe a group of crows is technically called a murder of crows–perhaps I’ll work with that into some other poem!
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Because of your vivid description, I am right there with you on the commute. What beautiful scenery indeed!
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Thanks, Amy! Maine is so beautiful!
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How wonderful! I spend my commute on a train smooshed into my fellow commuters, but perhaps I will keep your images in my head, to help me daydream myself into a calmer, more inspiring place!
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Thanks, Jane. Your carbon footprint is also probably smaller, so there’s a silver lining for ya’!
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Like several others, I love the idea of a bouquet of crows. Thanks for reminding me to view the grayness of a winter morning through eyes of wonder!
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Your final line sounds like a poem! Thanks for stopping by and commenting!
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Chiming in late on your post, Molly. I love the image of crows as tree buds.
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