Fleur de Lis

Beauty in sorrow. We found a Greenfinch lying on the drive.

Beside it, perhaps torn off by a predator (a local cat!, perhaps) a group of three delicate feathers, joined together, were lying.

I felt like writing a poem — but was, alas, too busy... Perhaps I should have gone to bed reading Wordsworth's ode: 'Intimations of Immortality..' I recall that as a rebellious and iconoclastic schoolboy I once wrote a parody: 'Imitations of Immorality...' Not in fact as good as the original!

At least I could Blip the feathers, shedding no tears.