‌Garden birds

Lying in the backless garden headless Warm on sun-fed scratchy turf

We watched as chubby garden birds Flew in and did turns for us.

We give them names

And whispered lives with voices Played raucous on sloping tiled drives

To nested semis with gutter moss ponds. Pouting they screamed and fanned Neighboured each other with pecks

Cooed and keened song-flowers of love-birds Till the sun slipped and they slept.

We lay on as the kitchen window curtain lit And she shadowed and peeped out to us Frail, fair, hair red, smiled to see us

We smiled back and waved

Our damp bed rose but we played on Birds gone.

Now half one hundred on Back on sun-fed scratchy turf

We sit polite pairs in chairs with cake and that Remembering the chubby birds

With voices that fly in turns

Despite the day, past, days, this day’s passing.

But a window-shadowed curtain rests shut And the birds sniff and laugh but can’t sing They hang about here

Duff, Elsie, Sid, Hillier

Silent still all, with June gone.

October 28, 2014