"A Blackbird Singing"

It seems wrong that out of this bird,
Black, bold, a suggestion of dark
Places about it, there yet should come
Such rich music, as though the notes'
Ore were changed to a rare metal
At one touch of that bright bill.

You have heard it often, alone at your desk
In a green April, your mind drawn
Away from its work by sweet disturbance
Of the mild evening outside your room.

A slow singer, but loading each phrase 
With history's overtones, love, joy
And grief learned by his dark tribe
In other orchards and passed on
Instinctively as they are now,
But fresh always with new tears.


From "Song at the Year's Turning", published in 1955, by R. S. Thomas (1913-2000)




After a quick trip to the shops, I parked next to the Old Vicarage at St Mary's Church in the late afternoon sunshine to take some pictures of the magnificent magnolia in the churchyard.  When I returned to the car, the beautiful singing of this blackbird made me look up to his lofty perch on top of the ancient church gatepost.