A brief glimpse of my garden

The lilacs have shrunk to brittle brown cones
mocked by lush green forsythia leaves. No
crows bob in the beeches, but a blackbird
flicks up his rear on a fence-post, his beak

blurring crocus-yellow in the sudden drizzle; perhaps
I watched his grandfather build the nest
the scaldies gape in now, harshly announcing
their hungry presence to slinking neighbourhood cats.

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URL: http://mourne.org/blackbird.htm