If I wrote my will
I'd leave everything I have
to a magpie,
they have a beautiful intelligence
something rarely seen
in any kind of species.

Of course this little bird
doesn't know
this old moss for much,
I am green,
clashing against
our wooden encagements.

A silent observer
to their fluttery exuberance
where it is impossible to tell
the crescendo of wind
from the absence
of feeling.

overwhelmed by longing
unable to fly
blurred beyond recognition
no longer watching

love you not
love me not
it is here
the will is written
please take it all.