Greenery shivers.
A troll? No, not quite. Smaller.
Scuffle… Ah, moorhen!
Tag: bird
Wide-eyed
Evening settles in,
shadows skitter from their trees.
Wings ruffle in wait.
Superstition
Magpie darts across,
wives’ tale appears in my mind.
Wave away; hearsay.
The Noise
It rumbles through bones, teeth and jaws
down to the ground, past all six floors.
Shaking the doors, cracking the windows
disturbing old dears absorbed in their bingo.
They try and try to stop The Noise
offering food, books and free toys,
but the little green ball that resides at its core
simply widens its mouths and screeches some more.
As the crow flies
Safe in the nest. Safe in the nest until
the feathers fall into pillows ready for stuffing.
Downy softness to lull the head to sleep.
It hops. It pecks. It hops again.
Cocks its head to the side
with a measured eye, seeking.
Dreamer land. Dreamer land on the horizon.
Caw Caw Caw.
Thief Budgie
Lilac fury, fierce eyes,
delicate wings, sweet trilling lies.
Swift as wind, ever cunning,
chase away, send them running.
Feathered face, iron claws,
needle beak, never pause.
Mechanical Lungs (draft)
I gave you my voice
once. You had me
caught and caged,
ready to sing for
you and any audience.
To perform until my lungs
were spent, my fragile
frame shaking, but it made you happy;
I could see.
So I persevered, even though
my head would droop and my
light chest was gripped
with tightness.
Then you were gifted a metallic me.
It astounded you and every
beat
of
your
heart
was ensnared
by the grinding inner workings
as it chirped out
a charming replica of song.
You cast me aside,
I was free to fly again.
Free
to sing when I pleased or sing
not at all.
But eventually, as all things
do, the grinding of fake me
ground to a halt.
And your heart was released
to beat on its own.
The beat was weak.
You realised that it was starting
to break apart.
The cracks had appeared when you first
pushed me aside,
yet the pain was masked by false joy.
I can fix you,
bandage you up will warm trills
filled with spring flowers and
gentle breezes, the chorus of dusk and of dawn.
I can heal you.
Will you ask?
Treeshallow Musings 