19th March, 2016 (Thrush around the house)

by Brendan Strong

Whistling songs stretch out the morning
Hopping the red path around the house.

No more purpose than necessity
Calling to comrades in the air,
On the wires, in trees,
Seen unseen heard unheard
In the general melee until

Burst of birdwing bring them up
Machine gun bullet flutter into the big blue

No secret, but seen only by one
Drinking coffee, saying “how about that?”