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(December 2013)
And
what a day after rank storm and wind!
The
sky was a mild sea of cornflower blueDraped lacily with strings of cloud;
The sun hunched into an orange ball and grinned.
You
felt its heat and so the birds rang loud,
An
afternoon chorale, come all, come few,And, truly, sun heat on the skin
Straightened my back so that I stepped out proud.
Despite
the sun, the air stung eyes like gin,
Breath
clouded from my mouth in frothy puffs,But huddling into layered clothes
I lauded spring’s glad preview, bright as tin.
Among
the trees, the blackbirds flicked like gloves,
And
blue tits flustered, balls of ends and fluffs,The starlings fell and whirred like toys,
Crows were unfriendly, flinging croaks like shoves.
The
trees rose leafless in their chilly poise;
There
was an ash with hung brown bags of keys,A birch with creamy curds of bark,
And both were lacquered by the birds’ rich noise.
Each
bore a robin like a rust-red mark
On
topmost branches dipping in the breeze;They faced each other crown to crown
And sang as if to out-compete the lark.
Such
carolling to shame glum winter’s frown,
Fresh-tuned
as water falling in a pool, Now sparkling like an arc of spray,
Now measured like the flow of waters brown.
Yet
these two puffed their chests as if to bray
"Keep
off, this tree is mine and knows my rule,Its grubs, its crannies, soon a mate;
Approach and totter in my direful sway."
For
robins, nature’s muggers, love to rate,
And
this pair, bright of breast with chestnut hat –Not singing to but shouting at –
Like bloodied wrestlers longed to try their weight!
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©
January 2014