“Time stops when you chitchat with a chickadee.”
—Amy Tan
Prelude: On Listening
In the hush between leaf and sky, there is a voice so small it might be mistaken for silence. The chickadee does not demand attention—it offers it. A syllable, a tilt, a breath. To chitchat with a chickadee is to enter a covenant of stillness, where time unspools not in hours but in notes. The woodland, too, listens. Not passively, but with intention. Each twig, each shadow, each gust of wind becomes part of the suite.
This is not mimicry. It is not translation. It is communion.
The movements that follow are not merely poetic verses. They are echoes of a moment suspended—where the human voice meets the avian, and both are transformed. Let the rhythm guide you. Let the silence speak. Let the chickadee lead.
I. Staccato Echo
Chit—chat.
A tilt of the head.
Chit—chat—chat.
A secret is said.
Two notes,
then three, then four.
Time halts—
the woods hold more.
You speak—
it answers in kind.
Chit—chat—
a song half-defined.
II. Patterned Rhythm
Chit—chat,
the head tilts,
two notes,
the forest stills.
Flip—flit,
the quick wings,
three calls,
the silence sings.
Hop—skip,
the bird goes,
four notes,
and onward flows.
III. Playful Whimsy
Hop—skip,
branch bends—delight.
Two chirps,
then gone from sight.
Flip—flit,
the sky’s small clown.
Three notes,
then tumbling down.
Chit—chat,
a friend at play.
Four calls,
and off—away.
IV. Meditative Stillness
Time—stills,
the bird draws near.
Two notes,
yet more to hear.
Breath—hushed,
the forest waits.
Three calls,
unlocking gates.
You—pause,
your soul takes wing.
Four notes,
and all things sing.
Northcoast Antiquarian 