Wife's Wren

In the first rain after a dry summer, 
Small as a leaf, the color of fallen leaves,
You sang at the foot of a fallen cedar
Like a dream of singing, more quiet,
More intricate than the mass of stems
And moss-light roots you lighted on
Where the earth still clung to the dead, a song
Gentle and distant, nearly disappearing
Under the hush of the rain,
The soft trills rising out of next to nothing
To claim this side of silence.


For a Winter Wren, by David Wagoner


The day was too rainy and dark to capture any decent photos during my commute, and now after work I'm too tired to come up with any creative ideas. So I decided to showcase the creativity of my wife by reaching over and taking this print of hers down off the wall next to where I'm sitting and taking a photo of that. Adding an accompanying poem, of course, which I think goes pretty well with the image, even if it's a bit out of season. Then again, something about this bird always seemed a bit out of season to me, since we never see them around here in the actual winter.

If you are unfamiliar with the song of this bird you should do yourself a favor and listen to it here.