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May 2013
The peacocks were behind wire
the sun warm
cloudless sky
and Monica had ridden

beside you on her bike
knowing her brothers
were out with the older brother

you not knowing had gone
to the farm house
to meet them
o they’re out

their mother said
didn’t they tell you?
no they‘d not

you walked to your bike
and got on
where you going?
Monica asked

don’t know now
you replied
I can ride with you

wherever you decide
she said
her mother
hands on hips said

don’t go bothering Benedict
he doesn’t want no girl
hanging on his tails

he don’t mind
Monica said
looking at you
her big eyes pleading

don’t mind if she comes
you said
giving the mother

a smile
if you’re sure
she said
and walked back

toward the farmhouse
her backside moving
side to side

in her flowery dress
and you watched
until she had gone
sure you don’t mind

me coming?
no I don’t mind
you said

where we going then?
the peacocks again
o I like them
she said

climbing her bike
foot on the pedal
ready for the push off

her sandals open toed
bare feet
the off white skirt
contrasted

with the mauve top
her hair dragged
into a bow

at the back
ready?
sure am
and you rode off

along the track
from the farmhouse
into the lane

between trees
and hedgerows
she followed at your side
keeping up

her eyes seeming
on fire
her hands gripping

the handlebar
white and pink
and the small fingers
holding on for dear life

her legs up and down
pedalling
you felt the wind

in your hair
through the open neck
of your white shirt
pushing down

the jean covered legs
up and down
the lane narrowed

then widened
there they are
she called
the peacocks

she dismounted
and laid her bike
against a tree

and ran to the wire fence
and peered through
you put your bike
by the hedge

and walked over
to where she stood peering
her eyes bright

and fiery
how comes the *****
are bright and colourful
but the hens are so dull?

she asked
that’s how it is
in the bird world

you said
hens are just dull
I’m not dull
she said

holding the wire
with her fingers
making noises

at the birds
am I?
she said
looking at you

beside her
no you’re not
you said

nothing dull
about you at all
I’m like a peacock
she said

bright and beautiful
aren’t I?
sure you are

you said
you peered
at the strutting peacock
nearest the wire

out of the corner
of your eye
you saw Monica

nose inches
from the wire
call to the bird
her lips pursed

and opening
and closing
her arms soft

and reaching up
I’m a peacock bird
she said
her arms in motion

like wings
her hands flopping
above her head

her feet in dance
stepping
and dancing in turn
you watched her dance

and twirl
Jim and Pete’s sister
the peacock girl.
Terry Collett
Written by
Terry Collett  Sussex, England
(Sussex, England)   
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