February 22, 2013
April 19, 2011
A flock, a gaggling squawking bunch of birds,
the sound coming closer across the sea of sky ahead.
They come towards me sitting there at Mum’s back door
eating toast drinking coffee on this quiet Sunday morning.
They flash and flutter, wheeling in unison
then disperse then gather again.
Is this Hitchcock’s dream?
Arguing at high volume
checking positions or deciding where to land
or maybe exclaiming delight for the view
they dance over me and around and away.
The noise fades and I see at last
they are flashing jewels, confetti, a celebration.