A song by Carol Grimes from the album “Heavy Poet-ting and a Little Peace by A Loving Company” ~ in aid of St Joseph’s Hospice. Featuring the exceptional Annie Whitehead on trombone, and Jennifer Maidman on percussion and uke (or mandolin?)….recorded and mixed by Jennifer as well…Visuals Michael and Sooty in Brighton in the House with a blue door xxx
A London Sparrow. Carol Grimes ©
He is A torn and tattered thing a tiny bird, with a broken wing.
A beating heart which flutters in his breast.
He flies, he tries to reach the stars, his body has no strength
His throat is full, no song upon his tiny tongue,
spinning in circles, adrift in silent flight. The night sky, scorched orange, urban light.
Obscuring the stars.
On winters icy winds, the vertical descent –
wings split, eyes blind, voice mute above the city,
a tiny unseen bird, amongst a million seeking refuge.
A tiny bird, without a song he longs to sing, to fly on wings as delicate as ancient lace,
with the strength of an eagle, a fleeting flight in grace.
I have always plucked at feathers. Picking at them with my fingers, inside a cushion or a pillow, and in childhood, I remember the occasional Eiderdown. I cannot sleep without a feather in a pillow, however small, it must be there. If I find myself without, sleeping in a hotel of someone else’s home, it is a sleepless night. If I sit anywhere, and there is a feather nearby, I am at it. Pick pluck pick. And I am comforted. Now I live amongst the Birds in my garden. Maybe back in my long-ago DNA History, I was a bird? A sparrow? A Starling? I don’t feel as If I was anything as Magnificent as An Eagle or a Stork. Anyway, I love the little birds.