In the Jersey woods
Home again
in the Jersey woods
Mornings between eight and nine
a full concert of birds
from different quarters
In keeping with the fresh scent
the peace
the naturalness all around me
I am lately noticing the russet-back
size of the robin or a trifle less
light breast and shoulders
with irregular dark stripes
long tail
these days sits hunched up by the hour
top of a tall bush or some tree
singing blithely
I often get near and listen
as he seems tame
I like to watch the working
of his bill and throat
the quaint sidle of his body
and flex of his long tail
I hear the woodpecker
and at night and early morning
the shuttle of the whip-poor-will
noons
the delicious gurgle of the thrush
and the meo-o-ow of the cat-bird
Many I cannot name
but I don’t particularly seek information
You need not be too precise or scientific
about birds and trees and flowers
and water-craft —
a certain free margin
even vagueness or ignorance
helps your enjoyment of these things
and of the sentiment of feathered
or wooded or river or marine nature
Walt Whitman
(adapted from Specimen Days by John Lyons)