 |
| Starling Murmuration over Bridgnorth |
Deep within the soffits,
There live three friends of mine.
They gather twigs and bits of wool
And scraps of disused twine.
I hear them in the evening,
As they settle into bed,
For all their fun and frippery
Takes place above my head.
They swoop and glide each morning
And begin amassing tat
To carry to their nesting hole,
A touch of this and that.
Some say that they are scavengers
And wish that they would flee.
They aren’t as fair as other birds,
Except, perhaps, to me.
For I think they are clever,
Endearing in their way,
And in my ragged fascia board,
I hope that they will stay.
No comments:
Post a Comment