top of page


A flittery, fluttery,

quarrel of brown bullets,

I watch as they charge about the sky.

With no road markings

or rules to guide their way

how do they not crash one into another?

Startled, they fire themselves into our hedge -

Impervious to thorns and prickles,

piercing through impenetrable barbs

and spikey branches

they evaporate

into the dappled light.

Only to then publicise their presence

with a tumultuous twittering.

An uninhibited, joyous chorus of

chittery, chattering. Safe in the knowledge -

that no matter how closely I look,

they will remain elusively invisible.

1 view0 comments
bottom of page