Each of us may prefer a different songbird: the nightingale singing at dusk, or the tumbling skylark in summer meadows, inspiration for poetry and symphonies in imitation and praise, or the gull with its plaintive cry longing for the sea, the bright twitter of robins, the haunting call of the curlew. Every songbird has its champion. The blackbird is my favorite. That fluted call; gentle, effortless. In the summer nights of youth, I sat by the window. In the trees above, I watched the blackbirds and listened to their song. A questing, unknowing desire rose within me as I grew … Continue reading Blackbirds