And when the buzzard,
lord of silence, leaves
a tittering of magpies yobs the beeches,
and their chooka-chooking Bren bursts
quarrelling and fussing -
in search of eggs and nestlings,
glut on ripened beech-nuts,
cover for daft ambush?
Peeking, jouncing,
they squabble loudly
round, trailing
barred tails through boughs.
Small hawk flap-glides far and low
away and gone. Out of low cloud, a squall
of high-flying gulls
whirls and curse-disperses.
Now a young blackbird, is it,
sitting on the elder, pecking berry-bounty?
Beading me,
unabashed.
YOU ARE READING
Under The Wings
Poetry.Under the Wings of the Egyptian and world-wide respected Goddess, Isis. Poems of Nature, Inner Resonance and Mythology.
