Poor Thing

[poliphilo]

There's a frost on the ground. So the first thing I did this morning was renew the food in the bird feeders.

The north wind doth blow,
And we shall have snow,
And what will poor Robin do then?
Poor thing.
He'll sit in a barn,
And keep himself warm,
And hide his head under his wing,
Poor thing.

Which makes me think of Mary Poppins and how it's no longer permitted to feed the birds in Trafalgar Square.

Why, what harm did it really do? The birds messed up the monuments (so what?) but children loved being at the centre of a fury of wings, with birds perching on their shoulders, their heads....

Mayor Livingston is a good thing in some respects, but in this he's a kill-joy.

Comments

[poliphilo.livejournal.com]

You won't come back as ant. You have repented.

But I think I see what the guy meant. Insect life is so different and yet- in its way- so intelligent. An anthill or a hive is like one mind divided up among thousands of different bodies. What would that feel like, I wonder?

[jackiejj.livejournal.com]

An anthill or a hive is like one mind divided up among thousands of different bodies. What would that feel like, I wonder?

And yet there's the zeitgeist. What's that all about?

[poliphilo.livejournal.com]

I guess the zeitgeist could be our version of the hive-mind.

There's a story by E. Nesbit about a girl who dreams about living in a city where everybody is permanently angry and fixated on work and she wakes up and finds she's been sleeping next to an anthill...