Saturday, 21 May 2016

melodosity, 21st May 2016

waking every morning to the blackbird and ending each day with the song thrush.... they bookend my days these days, for now anyway, in fine voice are both with an edgy melodosity (yes, it is a word... well now it is anyway)..... sharing some phrases though decidedly distinct.... and where is my mistle thrush in all this?.... well, sandwiched (almost) between them one might say as it takes to the branch around mid-afternoon (or late morning depending on mood, I imagine anyway not knowing the mind of the mistle) and with scratchy melodosity (see, it's definitely a word now because I've used it twice) performs for all to abide....... I picture every morning all the birds sat on deckchairs and picnic rugs with lashings of ginger beer quietly listening and politely applauding with their feathery wings the blackbirds dawning sonata... then off they fly to their respective perches to scintillate the ears of the world with their own compositions..... listening, my brain flits between the whole and the parts picking out the individual threads of voice, of tone, of nuance, of tempo, and no matter how many birds sing how many songs, stir how many melodies into the cauldron they all seem to jigsaw into place keeping cacophony a beak-tip away....... then it's gone, gone but for the business of alarm calls and feeding the chicks, brooding the eggs, tidying nests, a little moss there a spiders web here, a bit of spit (literally!) and maybe just a smearing of mud.............. and later once we humans have quietened down and stopped making our incessant drones the song thrush will sit on the ash branch taking a deep breath......

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