A rainy day,
Statistics to revise to tutor on,
penned in, too, by rain-streak bars
beyond my glazing (gaze),
that out there soggy paper,
ghost reluctant ink, or fur it,
Rorschach.
Yet blackbird loves to bathe -
rain not enough for him, you know
but makes opportune shift to clean,
de-oil, maintain his plumage,
with these rhythmic, dunking jinks
in the brimming bath.
Water off a bird's back's, my first thought,
so he must dip, re-dip a dozen times,
flick it, tail-up, back at him,
flutter wing and shake the water through.
'Ritualized movements' books term 'em.
I call it efficiency, the best (flutin') way -
and what do you expect him to do,
lie down, whistling, on his back, and loufer,
spruce himself with a long spruce-cone
in beak, head cricked round owlwise?
Off he flies - still shaking excess,
perched a moment in the pear tree -
gone - all done.
.................
Nice pond in the U-Tube - but they didn't catch him at the beginning. Only does a few dunks, in this video.
