An Uncomfortable Perch…

Algy shuffled about on the slatted perch inside the peculiar sheltering structure, wriggling backwards and forwards and from side to side, shifting his weight this way and that in an attempt to get even vaguely comfortable, but it seemed to be a futile endeavour. No matter how he adjusted himself, the hard, cold bars dug into his tail feathers in a most distracting and disagreeable way. However, the odd structure certainly provided shelter from the wind, so he resolved to remain inside just a wee while longer, in case the transport vessel was just around the corner, but in the event that it did not arrive soon he would perhaps seek a more accommodating perch, even if it meant getting cold again…

Algy wishes you all a very happy Sunday, and if you happen to be waiting for something, he hopes that you will find a truly comfortable perch to wait upon, and that you won’t have to wait very long 😀

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Waiting…

Algy flew slowly over to the spot where he had first arrived on the island, and perched on a massive, hard structure whose nature he did not understand. It could hardly be intended for the purpose of holding back the sea, as a cliff of natural stone rose directly behind it, but he supposed that the humans had had some reason for building it, and it did provide a convenient and very solid perch for fluffy birds who happened to be waiting for transport.

However, there was no ferry boat anywhere in sight… Algy wondered whether it would indeed come back for him, but he was not in any hurry; the sun was still shining, and it was peaceful just sitting beside the sea, listening to the gentle splashing of the small waves on the slipway. As he settled down contentedly to wait, he remembered a poem from long ago, written by an American naturalist:

Serene, I fold my hands and wait,
Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea;
I rave no more ‘gainst time or fate,
For lo! my own shall come to me.

I stay my haste, I make delays,
For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways,
And what is mine shall know my face.

Asleep, awake, by night or day,
The friends I seek are seeking me;
No wind can drive my bark astray,
Nor change the tide of destiny.

What matter if I stand alone?
I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it hath sown,
And garner up its fruit of tears.

The waters know their own and draw
The brook that springs in yonder height;
So flows the good with equal law
Unto the soul of pure delight.

The stars come nightly to the sky;
The tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,
Can keep my own away from me.

[Algy is quoting the poem Waiting by the 19th century American naturalist, essayist and occasional poet, John Burroughs.]