Bird Whispers by Liz Davies
I walk under the willows, and
My feet hardly touch the shadows,
But my silent passing sets up
From among the silver leaves
A great whispering of frantic feathers.
A whistling, panicked battle
Of soft curved wings batters
Against the cage of twigs and leaves,
That gently hold the frightened bird,
Slow the flight with slender tips,
And a great pearly woodpigeon,
Eyes bulging in delicate head on arching neck
Fights free through the enveloping
Tree and escapes into the sky.
Liz Davies lives in Fenstanton