counting chickens

The train’s delayed and while I wait,
I gauge my luck – or lack thereof –
in magpies: the furl of caping wings,
and splay-tailed swoop to perch
high in the winter cage of track-side trees
whose trunks are evergreened by ivy.

 
The magpies were too far away to get a photo, but this blackbird seemed to think that if he sat still enough I wouldn’t notice him.

blackbird in bare branches

Author: don't confuse the narrator

Exploring the boundary between writer and narrator through first person poetry, prose and opinion

2 thoughts on “counting chickens”

    1. Heh. I guess you are right. I don’t know why I thought it was a juvenile, which I thought might account for its less-than-black plumage. But presumably if it were male even a juvenile would have a brighter beak.
      I stand corrected. Tnx.

      Like

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