NO brigadier throughout the year
So civic as the Jay.
A neighbor and a warrior too,
With shrill felicity
Pursuing winds that censure us
A February day,
The brother of the universe
Was never blown away.
The snow and he are intimate;
I ’ve often seen them play
When heaven looked upon us all
With such severity,
I felt apology were due
To an insulted sky,
Whose pompous frown was nutriment
To their temerity.
The pillow of this daring head
Is pungent evergreens;
His larder—terse and militant—
Unknown, refreshing things;~Emily dickinson
His character a tonic,
His future a dispute;
Unfair an immortality
That leaves this neighbor out.
My favorite poems are the ones that help me see the world through fresh eyes. This is one of those.
Throughout the year, blue jays frequent our feeders, driving off all other birds and hogging the seed. They are loud, messy, rambunctious. It would never occur to me to describe them as “civic,” a “neighbor,” “the brother of the universe.”
And yet, somehow, when I read Dickinson’s poem, I agree with her. The jay is all these things. Maybe not at the feeder, perhaps not when presented with a pile of black oil sunflower seeds and a host of sparrows–but there is something wonderful about jays, something I’ve previously overlooked. Something in their strength, resilience, persistence. Around here, we complain about them, but seen through fresh eyes they’re beautiful creatures, strangely exotic amongst all our little brown and grey birds.
So thanks, Emily. I’ll look at them a bit differently from now on.
The Emily Project 