I woke early this morning to birdsong. But not the trills that come with morning light. This was a lone note deep in the darkest before. I waited as the call went out. Then I waited some more.
Avian fantasia surrounded me as the bird voiced itself again. For somehow I knew it was the same lone bird and same lone note, perhaps calling out a name. Or was it a call awaiting response? I wondered if it was a mating call. Was there was a partner to answer?
Or was that the cry of the forlorn?
Try as I might, it sounded like crying; the gut wrenching sob of one trying to hide the pain. Is this what it sounds like when doves cry? I felt as though I was somehow intruding on something private, by just listening. As my alarm went off I rose knowing I was listening in vain. I did not hear the call again.
Just the memory of that note in the dark of night lingering on my psyche in the light of day.
Let’s see how others are slicing it up today…
Now I’m thinking of “When Doves Cry” by Prince…
I always associate a bird’s song with joy and happiness. I think to hear a forlorn cry would haunt me all day.