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“Night time, when phrases fade and issues come alive,” Little Prince creator Antoine de Saint-Exupéry wrote in his love letter to the midnights, composed whereas flying alone over the Sahara Desert.
No aliveness animates the nocturne with extra grandeur than the migration of birds. Each spring and fall, within the starlit hall between the bushes and the clouds, flocks of hundreds of thousands soar over darkish deserts and oceans, cities and continents — feathered pilgrims of objective and resilience, ruled by senses we don’t have, guided by voices we’re solely simply starting to listen to.
![](https://i0.wp.com/www.themarginalian.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/charleyharper_migrants.jpeg?resize=680%2C431&ssl=1)
Throughout these immense distances, typically navigating by astronomy, birds keep on target and keep collectively by a type of choral communication, talking to one another in unusual and wondrous sounds — some solely fractions of a second lengthy, all solely totally different from their daytime calls and songs.
And all of it — this secret language of the evening, this miracle of sentience and synchrony, this fiesta of homecoming — whereas we sleep, whereas we dream of flying.
Poet Hannah Fries conjures up the majesty and thriller of evening migration in a shocking poem, set to music by composer Oliver Caplan and channeled within the human voices of the New Hampshire Grasp Chorale.
NIGHT MIGRATIONSby Hannah Fries
We sleep,stumblingthrough doorless goals,whereas over our rooftopssky shivers with wings —warblers, cuckoos,herons and sparrows —waves risingon evening’s cool breath.
We sleepas they comply with the celebs(hummingbird and wren)excessive over shadowed earth,bushes clinging to rock,cities curled in grief.We shut our home windows,bury our faces —
we sleepand they communicate:buzz and whistle,secret namesthrough airtying every to every.
We sleepas they fly(think about being lifted)by moon and magnet,over undulating seatoward a spot(keep in mind)that echoesin hallowed clearings,in hollowed bones,the track that pulls themhome.
Couple with Richard Powers on the majestic migration of sandhill cranes, then revisit Emily Dickinson’s soulful ode to ecology set to track.
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