Nothing tops the melancholy
of the sweet blackbird sing
twee shrill from beak o' yellow
natures feathered cello

The artistry of the Housemartin
low flight,  dancing pirouettes
on land Englishman sow
betwixt wildflowers earthly grow

A wood pigeon hurries tree to tree
A weight in flight rarely seen
Wings ten t' dozen ,audible hum
A quick heartbeat of a big bass drum

Then the May treat the starling
A spring sensation
a thousand wings delightful circle
a swarm , A murmuration.

Martyn Grindrod