With clacking heels you breeze
through parkland
towards the obligations
of the day.
By an iron gate you pause,
noting within a shrub
a shadowy fidget of birds.
through parkland
towards the obligations
of the day.
By an iron gate you pause,
noting within a shrub
a shadowy fidget of birds.
For a minute their presence
holds you, like breath,
a poem unfolding.
holds you, like breath,
a poem unfolding.
You hear the slough of leaves,
the snap of sticks and beak,
the snare of claws.
A sudden whirr of wings
thrums like a heartbeat.
the snap of sticks and beak,
the snare of claws.
A sudden whirr of wings
thrums like a heartbeat.
Wide eyed you stoop and peer
into their green marquee.
Rarest of fortune to observe
this tiny theatre of birds.
into their green marquee.
Rarest of fortune to observe
this tiny theatre of birds.
See how they weave
collaborating twists
of twigs and vine
into a perfect mesh of
form and line.
collaborating twists
of twigs and vine
into a perfect mesh of
form and line.
Perhaps they see your boots or hear you breathe
for now they stop and wait for you to pass
and as they pause, you wonder if they too
are ambushed by a poem about you
for now they stop and wait for you to pass
and as they pause, you wonder if they too
are ambushed by a poem about you
Marian Waller
What Bird is that?
Marian Waller 19.9.10
So many wonderful lines in this poem. I think Marian has captured the sense of wonder and privilege I feel when I have an encounter with birds.
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