The Thinking Poet


Brief Encounter

Hammer-blow beak

Honeysuckle hued

Lunges at crumbs.


Now in sudden flurry

Of brown wings flapping

She's gone.


But in that flirtatious moment

She eyed me sideways

And our threads of sight met.


A young bird I would guess:

Sleek and trusting enough

To let me gaze at her with love.


There is especial beauty in all things young

Recently sprung from womb or nest

And touched still with bright divinity.