Silent stillness.
Emeralds hang from the treetops,
glinting in milky rays of
a peeping sun.
Juicy buds gather,
tinkling birdsong amidst
the newborn canopy.
White sea-foam of
elderflower and meadowsweet
spray the grassy banks.

Butterflies dance, birds chirp
They can't help but glee!
Leaves smile, cones perk
Why shouldn't they?
Their long gone friend has returned!

The fountains become fresher
The leaves turn more green
The daisies twist with pleasure!
Why shouldn't they?
Their long gone friend has returned!

The days tend to be merry
The air is filled with
laughter of fairies
Why shouldn't it?
Their long gone friend has returned!

They paint the rainbow on the sky
They paste the cotton on clouds
The grass is green-dyed
Why shouldn't it?
Their long gone friend has returned!

The buttercups seems to bloom
The sunflowers seek their friend
The bliss, blissfully looms
Why shouldn't they?
Their long gone friend has returned

The swans become whiter
They dress like a bride
The quails are ready to coo
Why shouldn't they?
Their long gone friend has returned!

They delicately embellish the route
Their friend shall walk on
Spring is ready to be lauded
Why shouldn't it?
Its their long gone friend,
Which returned!

Stop dropping off fledglings
like I can just ignore
something that is not yet grown
and expected to start functioning
alone!

Last year,
you cocky redbreasts thought
that three could bob happily
in the construction site
and thankfully I found no bodies
or feather puffs

This year,
that cheeky blackbird
who happily stalks the lawn
(though moss pile is more accurate)
has dropped bright and happy chicks
in the pell-mell mix of my
****** horticulture

And don’t get me started on the pigeons!

The cats round here,
like everywhere
are at best loveable rogues
with claws on fingers
and toes that like to ****
for spits and giggles

In these times
I turn to nature to save me
but you crank my anxiety
like the ***** grinder’s
forbidden monkey

Gimme a break, please?

A broken clarity
scored by fat pigeon coos
and the gangster chatter of crows

A winged court is in session and
they are not finding in our favour

Their behaviour’s changed
so even the ranks
of hedge birds are emboldened
to thumb their beaks
and sing clear in number
and the woodpecker’s gavel falls

When our industry prevails
will we seek vengeance,
or preserve this
hallowed cacophony?