In the middle of my back garden
Blooms the magnolia, riotous at the moment.
Birds flock to it, so many different kinds.
Tits love it best, Great tit and Blue tit,
All happily hopping up and down the branches.
Between the magnolia’s roots the soil is soft and moist
And amidst the creamy petals are the blackbirds,
Sending Robin flying to join the greenfinch higher up.
The woodpecker only rests awhile,
Preferring my neighbour’s poplar tree
From where he adds rhythm to the cacophony of sound.
The stock doves – a couple – doze amongst the buds,
Eyes half-closed in the sunlight.
The wren – so small I almost miss her –
Looks like she could snuggle up
In one of the large open buds for a slumber.
The magpie, surely it is always the same one,
Does not cause a disturbance but stays in the pine tree,
Obviously displeased with this merry gathering.
The jay, rare visitor, streaks through the garden
With a warning cry: all hush up as the crow flies overhead.
But on a day like this he stays high up,
Glistening while swirling in the bright skies and
Throws no shadow on the tree and the birds it shelters.
©jsmorgane (March 2014)