Alexander Averin

Saturday, 9 July 2011



Martins, luck-bringing eave-dwellers,
diminished in number
are heralding summer again.

A gang of sparrows,
grown in size and confidence
play back my London childhood.

From its woodland hide
the jay ventures out,
predatory in coloured robes.

No longer so rare,
the red kite looks down;
buzzards driven far abroad.

Elegant in flight,
statuesque in my river,
the heron stands in silence.

Robin, my steadfast friend
companionable all the year
is sociable, yet always stands apart.

Lone pheasant, mate-less
escapee from death
is safe within my garden.

Dippers in their secret home
from generations past
still bring their gift of constancy.

Akin to angels and patient,
harmonious to a fault,
the gentle dove will wait.

Would hell be a birdless garden?
No birdsong
no angels in its wake;

Nature’s avian summer gone awry.

Cait O’Connor


ds said...

Lovely, Cait. I just came in from listening to the birds...
Thank you.

Nora said...

You are truly blessed.

Frances said...

Cait, although I see mostly pigeons and sparrows around this city, I still love to wake up to birdsong.

It's over to Central Park for me, if I wish to see some other varieties, but I'll never see all those mentioned in your poem.


CAMILLA said...

You are such a gifted writer Cait, loved reading the Birdwatching poem. I do hope you will consider submitting your poems for publication one day soon.