Mellifluent Memories

How I hate that dratted blackbird. Always there singing its fluid song, a song in praise of...some would say nature, others sunrise, some the sexual urge, a few misguided souls quote God as being his influence but I see it as the pure joy of being alive. So much we can learn from such creatures, so much we don’t learn. Hence my comment about hating the ‘dratted blackbird.’
Spring is the worst season, he awakes me as the sun begins to banish the dark of night. He heralds the dawning of a new day with a sound that is like liquid gold, spreading its luminosity over all. Promising that a new day will bring new hope.
He loved the song. Would set his alarm to vibrate just for him. But it would always wake me. I would pretend to be asleep and through half closed eyes would watch as he lifted the covers and creep out, regardless of weather, to listen and marvel. He thought I was fast asleep, impervious to the beauty of the sound. When he had heard his fill he would carefully get back into bed and snuggle up close to me, kiss my neck and I could feel the smile and the joy that the blackbird had given him. We would lie like this for a while then he would make us a cup of tea, bring it back to bed and we would strain to hear those liquid notes.
That was then, now I am the one who is woken by the dawn chorus, by that dratted, blessed blackbird who, for a few minutes, brings my love back to me.