Groundswell

Groundswell is the annual publication of the University of Bridgeport English department, edited by Prof. Eric D. Lehman, with a faculty advisory board that includes Prof. Edward Geist, Prof. Amy Papaelias, Prof. Roxie Ray, and Prof. Amy Nawrocki.  It features the creative work of UB students from many disciplines, containing art, photography, fiction, non-fiction, and poetry. 

The following is an excerpt from "Redbird" by Nikolus Cook, a graduate of the Creative Writing concentration and winner of the Literature and Civilization award in May 2007.  "Redbird" was published in Groundswell in Spring 2007.

"A red breasted bird sat listlessly gazing at the branch of a tree across the street. There sat a young, slender creature naively twittering songs about how nothing ever really changes. The belly of the red bird burned as he edged back and forth on his lonely switch. He stared hoping, as one always hopes when looking at a beautiful woman, that she would feel his eyes and turn to stare back at her admirer. She did no such thing. She crooned on while he lovingly tortured himself, still working his way up and down his branch in nervous jumps. He fluttered his wings, hoping the sound would catch the butterfly that was her attention. She still did not look. She did, however, rustle the feathers of her neck in that cozy little way that birds often do. His tiny defenseless heart leapt.

It was spring and there were the slightest fringes of flowers seeping through the hard buds on the trees. The buds obscured the red little bird’s view of the sky, the ground, and everything else besides the perfect ornament, delicately placed in a tree across the street. Her song had long since ended, but the ears of a little red bird whom she did not know burned, and would continue burning forever, from a song she naively sat singing. Hidden in an array of infant flowers, a little red bird sat waiting for fate to fulfill itself. She was waiting, too. It was spring and she was a lovely girl who just turned of age after a childhood spent on fairy tales. She was waiting for a gallant man to fly to her with a whirlwind in his wake. She wanted desperately for her life to be retold again and again to young hatchlings as an inspiring tale of love. She wanted very little else.

Meanwhile, on a branch across the street, a red-breasted bird sat gazing listlessly at her. He had had the idea to sing a song of his own to impress his silly muse. He could not think of a song more perfect for the occasion than a lovely sonata his father used to sing to his mother. The song was melodic, he thought, to convey his sensitivity; the notes were strong to convey his masculinity; and the words were romantic, to convey his true affection. He cleared his throat to sing. He inhaled, his chest rose, and let out a vagrant note that hit the air sharp. The song he sang sounded nothing like the song his father sang; it broke and splintered under his quavering voice. He stopped suddenly. He knew how bad it was. He tried to sing a second time but very quickly stopped again. Across the street, perched on a branch, a feminine bird tried to ignore a song being sung somewhere close to her. The song started with a shrill “qyu-eek”. That, she thought, must be the only word the bird could remember. He did after all sing nothing else of the song..."

You may access the rest of this story and all of Groundswell from Spring 2007 here:

 Groundswell Spring 2007

Thanks to Sarah Hutton and Diane Mirvis from the Wahlstrom Library for their help in transforming our text into an internet-ready version.

Submissions are open year-round to University of Bridgeport undergraduate students to Prof. Lehman at 259 Dana Hall or elehman@bridgeport.edu.