A Lone Blackbird on a Lawn.

I was going to make a post about the significance of a lone blackbird feeding on the lawn late into the twilight. The evening was supremely still and quiet, you see. There was no wind, no traffic on the lane, no sound of passing voices, no planes going to or coming from East Midlands Airport, and no hint of birdsong to toll the knell of parting day. Even the sheep had stopped bleating, and a deep, hazy redness hung inscrutably above the western horizon.

And then I spotted a lone male blackbird hopping and pecking around the lawn. It seemed pregnant with significance somehow, but I couldn’t for the life of me work out why it should. So that was why I didn’t make the post. You’ll have to make do with this pointless ramble instead, which I felt compelled to jot down because I liked the post title.

(I might also say that Mr Thomas Gray wrote a much better pointless ramble set in similar circumstances in his poem Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard. It’s why I quoted a few of the words further up the page. Anyone who hasn’t read it yet might consider giving it a go. It’s rather nice and quite profound in parts.)