Thirteen Birds by Mark McGuinness

The crows are in a flap. They swirl

like tea leaves round the tree, then furl.

*

A buzzard climbs invisible spiral stairs,

biding its time, giving itself airs.

*

Hold-hammering – what a palaver! –

Great Tit in his balaclava.

*

Like a silent film with sound,

sparrows’ jerky frames abound.

*

Magpie! Magpie! Upon your life –

where are your rings? Your pins? Your wife?

*

Glimpsed at the end of a watery lane,

where the reeds close in – a swan.

*

There’s nothing left of the jolly jackdaw

but some entrails, a wing and a claw.

*

Whenever you enter a field

the heron is landing in the next field.

*

Fillet, pullet, wallet, millet, mullet –

seagull rams it ravenously down his gullet.

*

A rook and snowman on a lawn

like a black rook and a white pawn.

*

In the hedgerow, now and then

you overlook a wren.

*

The skylark’s song unravels all day

while we below make love, make hay.

*

The blackbird and the brown blackbird:

the first word and the last word.

________________

Mark McGuinness’ poems have appeared in Magma, Oxford Poetry, The Rialto and The

Wolf. He was awarded Third Prize in the 2016 Stephen Spender Prize.

www.markmcguinness.com