Weird-Bird by Shel Silverstein
Birds are flyin’ south for winter.
Here’s the Weird-Bird headin’ north,
Wings a-flappin’, beak a-chatterin’,
Cold head bobbin’ back ‘n’ forth.
He says, “It’s not that I like ice
Or freezin’ winds and snowy ground.
It’s just sometimes it’s kind of nice
To be the only bird in town.”
Well, how weird that I found some weird birds today, a weird poem, and had a weird message today at church. Seriously “weird.” In fact, it was titled “Weird. Because Normal Isn’t Working.” I am weird. I like being weird. It just means I don’t always go with the flow. And that really can’t be a bad thing.
(On a side note, I am being stretched extremely thin with family, church, work, 365 and trying to keep up and comment on everyone’s fabulous posts. I have to make a sacrifice and that sacrifice must be trying to comment on every post I read. I plan to continue to keep an eye on new works posted, but I will just be “liking” the vast majority of posts to let you all know I have been over for a visit and that I indeed appreciate the hard work you are all doing. )
We're All in This Together
They are the throngs
Of the poet’s songs,
Murmurs of pleasures, and pains, and wrongs,
The sound of winged words.
This is the cry
Of souls, that high
On toiling, beating pinions, fly,
Seeking a warmer clime.
From their distant flight
Through realms of light
It falls into our world of night,
With the murmuring sound of rhyme.
From Birds of Passage by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow