"I was the shadow of the waxwing slain....."

I was the shadow of the waxwing slain

By the false azure in the windowpane

I was the shadow of the waxwing slain

By the false azure in the windowpane;

I was the smudge of ashen fluff--and I

Lived on, flew on, in the reflected sky.

             Flying into the azure reflection of the sky and so transcending 

                   the finality of the Waxwings catastrophic end... These lines colored 

        for me my first reading of Nabokov's novel "Pale Fire" many 

      years ago and do so now again. Back then I didn't know a 
waxwing or seen one, but the name spoke to me
 of wild birds  in wild woods. 

  For a short spell they have come south for a visit, the 

          Cedar and the Bohemian Waxwings, having probably grazed 

             clean every fruit tree north of here and have settled on some 

                ornamental crab apple trees at the side of a busy thoroughfare, 

           but just for a day because the next morning the trees were 

                  empty and the birds gone.                  

They were picking the last of the dropped fruit from the pavement

Happy Birding! Happy Spring!