A red-winged blackbird sits, watching me, his fence post newly staked, bark on, topside down. At arms length, rusty fence pliers bounce along a span of barbed wire. One. Two. Three. “Hemlock, see, twists as it dries—” that’s Cunningham’s voice, “stretches the wire. Set one post wrong-way-to and it’ll sag right there.”
Come a day I recall Seamus Heaney and with newfound pride—my own name and that red-winged blackbird down Vernon River way.
Seamus Heaney, renowned Irish poet, wrote the fabulous poem, St. Kevin and the Blackbird.