Little bird

Saw this lovely baby bird on the top step of our garden this morning .
I wrote a poem about it

Wednesday
I sit in my conservatory
Eating a burnt bagel
As a September wasp drinks out of the gutter on the greenhouse
A young bird stands on the top step
The steps between the patio and the next level of the garden
It ignores me
I take a photo through the glass
The woodpile on my left will soon be needed
No heatwave here.

As always,
Strange clicking noises are heard on the roof above me
Nothing there.
Some green tomatoes in a bowl
In the table
A bowl given to us by a friend
A Scottish friend
Of Italian descent
Who now lives in America
And likes the idea of a wall
He’s not a friend now

And my government,
Looks weak
As traitors in Westminster vote against their own country
As BBC blocks the reports
And people invoke the ‘ Dunkirk Spirit’
The spirit that was a defeat
Lives lost as we retreated
Beaten
But there is batter in a bowl
Ready for the late breakfast
Once the migraine has lessened

Outside wildlife continues
The birds sing
The jackdaws sit on their nest
On a chimney in an old tinsmiths. Pop
Sparrows eat insects off a wall
Handing onto the harling with their small feet
A fat wood pigeon shares a roof with a crow
And the lettuces have shot and will be composted
I look through the newly washed windows
To the outside
Where,
Later on,
I will pick some apples and cabbages.
Today