to an elderly magpie

to an elderly magpie

at your age,
sir, you’ve
scooted zoomed
across a plethora
of skies
pulled finest
worms from
thickest lawn
raised families
scattered them
to the four winds
in handfuls of
black and white
fished the
sky for clouds
flown circles
round the
the day
you feel your
wings turned stiff
at the shoulder
errant awkward
trembling at
the stretch
no will to
scoot and
zoom the sky
an endless thing
you never saw
the edge of
will you
throw it all
into one last
flight to
crash and burn
or just stay
on the branch
let the wind
ruffle you away
ruffle you away
either way
free as
a bird of
birds the
soul at last.

1 May 2013

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