Tree dance

A pair of plump wood pigeons move ponderously

Pecking among the grass for fallen seeds

Unscared when other birds fly off in fright

At opened shutters.

A flock of starlings swoop down

Onto the stark cherry tree

Chasing off the smaller birds

From the hanging balls of food.

Sleek and shiny they swoop and strut

Masters of the tree

Until they have had their fill.

Then the pretty blue tits take their turn

Swinging and swirling their athletic dance

And flying off to safety in the higher branches

With their beakfuls of seed.

And there, more rare, a solitary robin

Flashes his red chest among the bare branches

Pecking here, perching there

His bright black eyes cocked for danger

And off he darts

As the wood pigeons come down again

Their smooth grey heads and pink chests

Outclipsing him,

Move heavily without his perky grace

Knocking the small green meshes to the ground

Where they can eat more comfortably.

More birds fly down – blackbirds, magpies,

The starlings once again – two turtle doves

Pacing and pecking while above

On the branches

The smaller birds swoop and peck

And fly away

A ballet of birds, an endless delight.

29 March 2009