The birds today are certainly trying
for effect. Pigeon's varying monotony
in a most peculiar mode. Sparrow*
chips post-Valentine: 'Is it? It's you!'
from the roof-gutter corner. Good job
we don't have corncrakes living next door.
It's only the middle of February, after all.
There's not a bower, not a flower.
I can't see anything to shout about.
Quick as a flash the sparrow's back at me.
(OK. We're in alt-fact territory.)
'So what are you scrawling there, scowler?'
'I was going to write about being easy,
till pigeon-din came brewing through -
and you with your whistle-section too.
I hear no blackbirds nor thrushes tuning;
the robin's decidedly silent here;
the finch-band hasn't started up,
so what's with your odd chip, chap?
And his hoot flute tooting?'
'You don't know when you're better off,'
replied the forthright piece of fluff.
'The silence was depressing you;
and now the noise is a to-do.
Finish your scrawl and slope away
(now feeder's filled). You've had your say.'
.......................
The UK sparrow is not the American song-sparrow.
