Morgan's Six Tree Sparrows

A Winter Harvest

Dec 11, 2008 Linda Sue Grimes

This delightful poem, "Six Tree Sparrows," offers an intense look at six birds as they go about their task of conquering the food supply in winter.

Bill Morgan‘s skillfully crafted piece features three unrimed verse paragraphs, rendering a magnificent dramatization of the birds stripping foxtails in a snowy field. Despite its flaws, the poem speaks powerfully and minus the regrettable final line could very well serve as a Christmas season testimony to the birth of Divine love for all creatures.

First Verse Paragraph: “Among the dozens of Juncos, six Tree Sparrows”

In the first verse paragraph, the speaker reports that “six Tree Sparrows” are out in a field “work[ing] their way westward / through mixed grasses.” The speaker then employs a startling simile likening the birds to “small wooden flutes.” These flutes “call[ ] discreetly to one another / in calm, candid voices.”

The reader may be in awe of the flute comparison but wonder why the speaker would claim that the birds call one another “discreetly.” In order to determine the presence of discretion in the behavior of another, one needs to determine motive. The bird-watcher can certainly determine the bird’s motive in rummaging for food but not whether the bird intends to be discreet when he calls to other birds. Reading the mind of a bird is beyond the talent of a poet.

Second Verse Paragraph: “In this late-afternoon work, each bird settles”

The speaker then details the actions of the birds as they strip the seeds from a foxtail. The unfortunate intrusion if “I think” weakens the mood: “each bird settles / about two feet up on a slim, tall seed spike, / Foxtail, I think, and rides it, bowing, down.” The description of each bird’s action is marvelous, however, giving the reader a joyful experience in watching the skill of the birds.

The speaker reports that the birds, as they wrestle with the foxtail, cause their tail and wings to “buzz[ ] in quick bursts.” Just a wonderful way of noting those actions! Then again, alas, the speaker intrudes upon the moment by claiming that they do this thing with their wings and tail “to adjust for balance.” Even if he knows that to be the case, it weakens the effect of his brilliant language choices that sufficiently portrayed the exact actions. The reader does not need to note the possibility that the bird buzzes his tail and wings to keep his balance.

The speaker then states that the bird, “slides along toward the brown tip / pins the cluster to the snow and strips it.” Again, a wonderfully economic description of the bird’s action. He adds that while the bird is moving along this stem, he is “constantly / narrating his progress to the others, who listen / feed, and reply.”

The speaker then reports that this awe-inspiring little scene “goes on, stem after stem, for half an hour / Then their little rusty caps, black breast spots, and white- / barred wings rise up and disappear into darkening trees behind.” The speaker captures their departure from the scene by giving the description of the bird. Except for adding the unnecessary “up” after “rise”—rise always means up, no such act of rising down is possible—the lines are graceful and melodic.

Third Verse Paragraph: “Theirs is a contented, un-self-conscious harvest song”

The final verse paragraph should probably have been omitted. The speaker merely editorializes about the birds: “Theirs is a contented, un-self-conscious harvest song; / theirs a labor elegant, precise, perfectly fitted to itself. / One watching could almost believe in a peaceable god.”

Commentary

This magnificent poem dramatizes a slice of natural existence, and for the most part, it does it astonishingly well. The speaker’s accuracy suggests an intuition that is readily accepted as truth even for the reader who has never watched bird activity.

As already noted, a few flaws do limit the poem’s success. Especially egregious, however, is the last line: what a place to announce one’s atheist-/agnosticism. The speaker has just dramatized actions that testify to the intelligence of the presence that creates and sustains the cosmos. He even states that fact clearly: “theirs a labor elegant, precise, perfectly fitted to itself.” Yet he chooses to leave his reader with the philosophical conundrum that this “elegant, precise, perfectly fitted” activity might, in fact, just be chance emanating out of chaos.

The copyright of the article Morgan's Six Tree Sparrows in Poetry is owned by Linda Sue Grimes. Permission to republish Morgan's Six Tree Sparrows in print or online must be granted by the author in writing.

Bill Morgan