Tree Tops

'Some twigs are perfect
To sway and see the breeze from
A simple pact
Between a claw and tree-form
Gazing across tree tops
My land is green, abundant crops,
I see my mate and eggs are nestled safe on high,
So simply fall to the wind and fly.

‘Folding up my wings
My tree tops fire a rapture
I sing, I sing
Across my spiky pasture
And, oh, there’s an answer
Another tree top dancer
Up sun and wind and lifting trees, fly-winging hard
To pecking drop the little bastard.’

"Winter Bird" Photograph by Brian Ferguson