magpies

slightly festive

I don’t celebrate Christmas and try hard to avoid the consumer chaos, so this time of year is always a bit strange: I feel there should be something a little special, but am not quite sure why or what.

Some wintry weather might help – there’s nothing like a bright frosty morning for clearing the mind and restoring the spirit. But when I went for a brief walk in the park this morning there was really nothing particularly seasonal, just vast expanses of sodden leaves and an unpleasant amount of mud.
Continue reading “slightly festive”

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.

fortunes

Three – four – nine – two; three – one:
random magpies map my life
in black and white.

One for sorrow, two for joy; three for a girl and four for a boy; five for silver, six for gold…

There were six magpies bickering in the trees by the river last night. Sadly, I fear they weren’t foretelling the imminent receipt of a large fortune, just the arrival of sunset over the lake: