Wednesday, March 23, 2011
The Elusive Whippoorwill
This evening will be the same as others, the song of the whippoorwill will be calling me soon, very soon. Each evening I'm serenaded by the sound of a whippoorwill over and over again. I thought to describe to you the feeling I have when I hear the song. But much like the elusive whippoorwill, I can't quite put my finger on my whippoorwill feelings.
The night sounds of the whippoorwill, the melancholy sound, the repetition of the calls draw me in. It's the haunting call of two, sometimes three notes, repeated over and over again which lead me into a rhythm of relaxation and reflection, and dreaming of softness and sweetness.
I discovered this poem by Emily Dickinson called, A Feather From The Whippoorwill, and thought you'd enjoy it.
A feather from the Whippoorwill
That everlasting -- sings!
Whose galleries -- are Sunrise --
Whose Opera -- the Springs --
Whose Emerald Nest the Ages spin
Of mellow -- murmuring thread --
Whose Beryl Egg, what Schoolboys hunt
In "Recess" -- Overhead!
Several of you asked about purchasing pieces of pottery from my home gallery. For your convenience, I've added a buy button at the top of my blog. I'll be at a local market today so measurements and pricing will be added by tomorrow. Thanks so much for your interest in my pottery.