Birdsong drift clatters
in the hedgerows, fuelled perch high,
myriad chords mix.
Sleek blackbirds whistling,
a chorus line of feathers,
wisps of songs enchant.
Notes for the dusk light.
Sinking sun envelops the
horizon with song.
We listen wrapt, birds
chattering on the blown breeze.
They hasten the night.
Notes circle around,
casting light and sound, fresh food
for the silent soul.
The whistling time.
Tiny ruminations, light
on the faintest breeze.
Chords scurry, songs high,
casting light-hearted raptures.
Sonnets for the sky.
Twit and woo join up
in sensations bursting skies.
A tennis of notes.
The sky cracks open
in full colour, notes ablaze
With full-throated glee.
We listen to the songs
they send us over rooftops,
nothing between us.
A magpie wakes us,
bursts a repetitive cry
that we take notice!
Turning notes softly,
he calls us, a lullaby
to send us to sleep.
It stops abruptly,
these dusky songs of the birds.
the display over.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Vickie Johnstone and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.