how_a_poem_can_happen Eamon Grennan I was watching a robin fly after a finch—the smaller bird chirping with excitement, the bigger, its breast blazing, silent in light_winged earnest chase—when, out of nowhere over the chimneys and the shivering front gardens, flashes a sparrow hawk headlong, a light brown burn scorching the air from which it simply plucks like a ripe fruit the stopped robin, whose two or three cheeps of terminal surprise twinkle in the silence closing over the empty street when the birds have gone about their own business, and I began to understand how a poem can happen: you have your eye on a small elusive detail, pursuing its music, when a terrible truth strikes and your heart cries out, being carried off. 060224 ... z i liked that. thank you. 060224 ... Doar . 090515 ... unhinged saying_saying_away photographic_memory 090515 ... Doar z...you are welcome... . 100802 ... n o m yes, nice 100802 ... Doar this is beautiful and insightful. a nature that happened and will happen, time and time again. such is nature, such is life. it will bend you, and sometimes break, but the lesson is still there. and it continues... . 100802 ... Doar this is beautiful and insightful. a nature that happened and will happen, time and time again. such is nature, such is life. it will bend you, and sometimes break, but the lesson is still there. and it continues... . 100802 what's it to you? who go blather from