Have you noticed...
I'm here at your feet,
in shadow...
I'm an ordinary bird
I am Starling.
My voice is ordinary,
yet it sings songs of longing...
to be of another world,
the Mother'lund perhaps,
but my tree of life
now springs from the Catawba,
totem to the Catawba,
lost tribe of the South.
Who is this ordinary bird,
mediocre perhaps,
yet complex beyond first sight...
that is
if you notice...
songs that sing
of tomorrow,
never worrying
of today,
tomorrow will come
it always does...
yet,
this is no ordinary bird,
survivor,
visionary,
conqueror...
growing into each new season
a veteran
seasoned
practiced...
I will grow old
in your memory,
my Catawba
my tribe...
remember me
I am ordinary
but
I am...
memorial.
S.Wilson
It's Shadow Shot Sunday again down under...play the part...in shadow of course...go here please!
I'm an early poster here in the states, 'cause I'm off and running to my daughter's shop to work on Saturdays...every Saturday, so you get to catch my thoughts early in the day.
This baby starling followed me around the yard all day yesterday, poor Scratchy has to stay behind the locked screen, as there are many a new residents at the Pink Chateau, and she would dutifully munch them to oblivion...that is, if she had the chance and I'm too busy scaring off the neighbors cats, who would gladly munch on the baby birds too. Some would say...but they're just Starlings...but to me, they are my Sisters, we all share the Catawba.
But this old relic of a tree, the Catawba, formerly named, but mistakenly published as the Catalpa by it's discoverer...some English dude perhaps, but was a sacred totem to the Catawba tribe of Native Americans inhabiting S. Carolina for centuries. These Native Americans are now extinct in their full-blood capacity,
but mixed lineage survives today, trying to bring alive their once powerful tribe.
My tree is home to many starlings and squirrels each year, all utilizing it's holes for nestlings.
I love the smell of the blossoms when they flourish in the spring, helps me not to miss the smell of jasmine and orange blossoms of Florida so much...my Northern exotic.
So, all be safe this weekend...and remember to
never forget!
I'm here at your feet,
in shadow...
I'm an ordinary bird
I am Starling.
My voice is ordinary,
yet it sings songs of longing...
to be of another world,
the Mother'lund perhaps,
but my tree of life
now springs from the Catawba,
totem to the Catawba,
lost tribe of the South.
Who is this ordinary bird,
mediocre perhaps,
yet complex beyond first sight...
that is
if you notice...
songs that sing
of tomorrow,
never worrying
of today,
tomorrow will come
it always does...
yet,
this is no ordinary bird,
survivor,
visionary,
conqueror...
growing into each new season
a veteran
seasoned
practiced...
I will grow old
in your memory,
my Catawba
my tribe...
remember me
I am ordinary
but
I am...
memorial.
S.Wilson
It's Shadow Shot Sunday again down under...play the part...in shadow of course...go here please!
I'm an early poster here in the states, 'cause I'm off and running to my daughter's shop to work on Saturdays...every Saturday, so you get to catch my thoughts early in the day.
This baby starling followed me around the yard all day yesterday, poor Scratchy has to stay behind the locked screen, as there are many a new residents at the Pink Chateau, and she would dutifully munch them to oblivion...that is, if she had the chance and I'm too busy scaring off the neighbors cats, who would gladly munch on the baby birds too. Some would say...but they're just Starlings...but to me, they are my Sisters, we all share the Catawba.
But this old relic of a tree, the Catawba, formerly named, but mistakenly published as the Catalpa by it's discoverer...some English dude perhaps, but was a sacred totem to the Catawba tribe of Native Americans inhabiting S. Carolina for centuries. These Native Americans are now extinct in their full-blood capacity,
but mixed lineage survives today, trying to bring alive their once powerful tribe.
My tree is home to many starlings and squirrels each year, all utilizing it's holes for nestlings.
I love the smell of the blossoms when they flourish in the spring, helps me not to miss the smell of jasmine and orange blossoms of Florida so much...my Northern exotic.
So, all be safe this weekend...and remember to
never forget!
