Bio Note: Born and raised in Coney Island, I'm a Coney Island patriot. And a squash racquets fanatic. My headstone is to read, "One More Game?" I am the author of Collected Poems 1954-2004 (Schocken Books 2004) and Usable Truths: Aphorisms & Observations (Waywiser Press 2019). A number of my readings can be found here: Irving Feldman readings.
The partridge, the russet bird, lies gently on the cutting board between the blue bowl and the sea-green decanter. And a young girl is singing, "A partridge in a pear tree," adding in a free contralto all those increments that return always to the partridge in the pear tree. Perhaps she has only now turned from the mirror or put her diary aside, roused unknowing by a second life she has received from the russet bird. It is like some genre painting come alive with a touch of blood. I note this without irony, and I intend no danger. One tress hanging down, she bends over it as over a baby she is going to powder. I do not know for certain that she is serenading the bird, or why our spreading increments, like a pear tree of winter, retrace, between a bowl of one color and a decanter of another, the crooked steps to the russet root, while somewhere a free contralto, perched with two lives in an auburn tress, clothes the tree with populous song — as I am here in a winter scene reasoning and yet with delight, my voice, beyond me, conjoining with hers in the floating air; and it is sweet to be the bright cold sky in winter time and any time, and all the snow that lies between, and the partridge and the pear tree.
©2022 Irving Feldman
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