A Minor Bird

What true lover of words and language and poetry and life can read the works of Robert Frost and not be moved? How does a man using such common words and simple language create such music of speech and thought? I love nature poetry and Frost was a master. Reading his poetry is like walking into the woods...and I love woods. A recent reading of the following poem especially struck a personal chord with me. I can certainly relate:

A Minor Bird

I have wished a bird would fly away,

And not sing by my house all day;

Have clapped my hands at him from the door

When it seemed as if I could bear no more.

The fault must partly have been in me.

The bird was not to blame for his key.

And of course there must be something wrong

in wanting to silence any song.

~~

Robert Frost

West-Running Brook

~1928~

How often in our homes does our own dampness of spirit seek to silence those little songs that could bring such delight if only we could rise above our own moods? Yes, I am guilty. Indulging in sullen moods when sweetness surrounds us not only robs ourselves but our loved ones of their beautiful and unique songs.