I Watch the Starlings

I watch the Starlings,
With their tiny stick legs and bare feet that cling to roof gutters
Their persistent pecking at the stubborn ground,
Their hungry hunting
Their tweeting, chirping, flapping,
Dropping feathers like black sprinkles on the grass.

The Starlings are an odd family
I’m glad I’m moving.
1

You might also like…

Poetry
Poetry
Poetry

An Exotic Bird

Justine Roux

The little girl was playing at the edge of the garden. She had decided, on this warm summer's afternoon, that she was going to be an archaeologist. Equipped with her beach bucket, a little plastic ...  [+]