Three little birds

Three birds bicker on a telephone wire,

each wanting to claim communication as its own.

They tweet and tweet, overlapping, undermining,

swapping positions and stances. Hopping from foot to foot

and puffing out their feathers. A girl walks

by and catches their dispute. In her bag she carries

seed for the wild birds who visit her garden.


She offers some, but they ignore her.

So she leaves the seed on the ground and goes on her way.


As the day wears on, the bickering birds grow tired.

Hunger gnaws at them, and eventually they relent

and fly down to pick at the seed.

As soon as they leave the wire, they forget

what it was that was so important to them about it,

and after they fill their crops, all three fly off to roost.


Wiped clean

There are times I look up and find the sky absent. The screen is off, no background to display. My hands immediately try to find the power button, encased in cardboard boxes filled with drippings of life. I suspect moisture is making the circuit trip up like a gangly teen with flapping shoelaces. But I can never bring myself to tear out the heart to have a look. Maybe I’m just too soft. Or maybe, there’s actually a part of me that enjoys the absence overhead.