waxwings = love.

{between the elms & the chokecherry}

{having a chokecherry feast}

{departing from the chokecherry}

{further away & filling the sky}

{all 4 pictures: waxwings in my neighbourhood, flying between the chokecherry tree in the back alley & the elms two blocks south, jan. 22/07}

I've waxed poetic about my love for waxwings many a time before (oh my, 'waxed' & 'waxwing', please forgive the pun) but I shall say it again: I adore these birds & witnessing them flocking & feeding makes me feel just like the universe is giving me a lovely gift. When they fly, they dart so intricately it looks like emphemeral embroidery patterns being stitched on cloud; the wings of a flock in unison like a sharp intake of breath when your heart swoops, skips a beat, & again with wave after wave of their soft calls like a wind sweeping through & dissolving into the sky.

I wish I could post a song called 'Waxwing' by Alasdair Roberts, but his new CD just came out today & hasn't reached me yet. In the song he sings of a waxwing who will 'bring thee amber the tide has gathered on the northern seashore' & since both amber & waxwings are among my most favourite things, I find it especially endearing. You can hear that snippet of this song (& others!) here.