The Magpie

Lonely and wild, the magpie flies —

Scudding past clouds

And under boughs of trees.

He settles on a branch or fence post

Then dives —

And the taffeta ties

Of his silken body glide

And pull down the curtain of the sky.

Whither do you fly little magpie?

Where do you go and why?

A glancing feather;

The wink of an eye

Then his flight become incendiary:

and fire-lit, explodes into the sky.

March 2015