A noisy but tuneful battle for territory between local blackbirds has meant any phone-call I make from my garden sounds like I'm calling from a aviary!
This morning, one has taken up residence on the roof outside my window and it reminded me of Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird, Walace Stevens' 1917 collection of short poems.
They are all gently brilliant but this is my favorite.
V.
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendos,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.
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