Poetry

Most of winter was stripped of life
but in thousands they do suddenly appear
when all of the blue sky is full of fluttering
with migrating birds gliding everywhere
as they come to rest on roofs and telephone lines
and you are surrounded by singing, twittering birds
pertly flapping down on porches
and from daybreak you can hear their calls
when in hordes in the garden skilfully they do peck at insects,
are peering from branches
while you still are shivering from the morning’s chill
and in the early twilight their chattering awakes you
as some peck on crumbs
and try to exist in a town or city.