Poetry Sunday: These are the days when Birds come back

A robin taking "communion" at a beautyberry shrub in my backyard yesterday.

Birds are always on the move it seems. North, south, moving with the seasons or with the climate or the availability of food and water. The fall migration is already well under way now and the birds are passing through my backyard on a weekly or daily basis.

The American Robin, though, has been here all along and has raised his family here this summer. Just this past week he has been escorting a new family around the garden, teaching them where to find food.

One place that many of my backyard birds find food these days is at the beautyberry shrubs. No one enjoys them more than the robin as he shows in the picture above, receiving his communion wafer and wine in the form of purple berries.  

These are the days when Birds come back—

by Emily Dickinson
These are the days when Birds come back—
A very few—a Bird or two—
To take a backward look.

These are the days when skies resume
The old—old sophistries of June—
A blue and gold mistake.

Oh fraud that cannot cheat the Bee—
Almost thy plausibility
Induces my belief.

Till ranks of seeds their witness bear—
And softly thro' the altered air
Hurries a timid leaf.

Oh sacrament of summer days,
Oh Last Communion in the Haze—
Permit a child to join.

Thy sacred emblems to partake—
Thy consecrated bread to take
And thine immortal wine!


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