Willy Wagtail.
Light, agile, acrobatic,
she dances on the fence post,
her gown of black and white
as sleek and smooth
as unruffled satin,
though she owns no other
and wears it day and night.
She fans her little tail.
Her flight is flits and spins,
short jaunts and instant turns,
out, up, down, around,
then back to dance again
on post or strand
of rusting, sagging wire.
Listen to her song.
Chick-a-chick-a-chick.
That is not complaint.
It is celebration.
Listen again.
Now she trills more musically,
her chattering voice
prettily rising and falling
as she pours out into the air only
pure, sweet, bright joy.
First published at Verse-Virtual
No comments:
Post a Comment