And Jane shows me
a sparrowhawk in the sky
hovering there
powerful and merciless

made to ****
like a flying
machine of death
so I'd read

in a book on birds
I'd bought
they ****
she says

but that's their nature
but there's beauty
there up there
in the air

I stand beside her
feeling her
presence near
her hand close

to mine
her dark hair
blowing in the wind
as we watch

the hawk hovering
there against
the wind's pull
and push

her dark eyes
holding on
to the sight
then it dives

and whoosh and zip
a bird has been snatched
and of and away
and we watch

both sad and thrilled
not by the killing
but by the show
of skill and flight

she looks at me
and says
glad I'm not
a small bird

waiting to be taken
like that
but as Daddy says
all things are

in God's hands
I say nothing
just want to hold
her hand and feel

her warmth
and skin and pulse
we walk on
across the field

her hand just
touching mine
skin on skin
the wind moving us

on like two birds
in flight
not towards a death
or dying

but hopefully
to a love
or deeper love
worth trying.

There was a vicar from Crewe
Whose congregation were few
To make amends he brought in his hens
And they all lined up on a pew

Then he compiled an avian choir
(For the singing voice of the hens was dire
And the only song the cockerel knew
Was ****-a-doodle-do)

The church fell silent as we heard
The Lord is my Shepherd from the minor bird
The vicar invited us to pray
And we got the Lords Prayer from the African grey

There followed a rendition of psalm thirty four
Performed without fault from the tenor macaw
The parakeets squawked and scratched their fleas
As they jumped up and down on the ***** keys

The vicar was thrilled it was going so well
The geese gave a honk as they pulled on the bell
But then there appeared right at the back
An evil sparrowhawk poised to attack

Calamity reigned inside the church
The African grey fell off his perch
The first to escape was the tenor macaw
As fast as he could through the open door

The chickens shrieked and went home in a flap
The minor bird had a heart attack
The geese walked away back to their pen
And the church fell silent once again

A sparrowhawk swoops down for food
Spring blue skies will lift the mood
When days go rushing by.

Children race to school pell-mell
There are some who miss the bell
When days go rushing by.

Spring blue skies will lift the mood
And garden tasks are now pursued
When days go rushing by.

There are some who miss the bell
Who’ll waste time catching up as well
When days go rushing by.

And garden tasks are now pursued
The growing season is reviewed
When days go rushing by.

For He will hear the church bell ring
As hearty, thankful voices sing
When days go rushing by.

The growing season is reviewed
A sparrowhawk swoops down for food.
When days go rushing by.

©Joe Wilson – Lauds…(the 5th morning)…2016

migrant in the trees
what language is he using?
willow warble-ish!


young brood of blackbirds
panic stations, screech alarm!
sparrowhawk about


two ears above wheat
lower slowly as we pass
pretend not to see!

Lizbeth sits
on her bike
by the hedge

her short skirt
showing thighs
her white blouse

open necked
Benny sees
her from his

bedroom view
sitting there
on her bike

he goes down
out the front
to see her

well I'm here
Lizbeth says
weather's warm

we could go
for a walk
or a ride

Benny knows
why she's come
and stands there

by the gate
I'm with Jane
not with you

he tells her
but will she
-****** queen-

that Jane girl
let you have
*** with her?

Lizbeth asks
I don't want
to have ***

with you or
anyone
Benny says

not until
I'm older
not thirteen

Lizbeth sighs
inwardly
wanting him

sexually
and had come
very close

a few times
the ******
that girl Jane

needn't know
if we do
Lizbeth says

anyway
we can still
have a walk

I promise
to be good
Lizbeth says

just to talk
nothing else
Benny says

but of course
she tells him
so Benny

walks with her
down the lane
by the side

of the house
between high
hedges filled

with song birds
she speaks of
her mother

and her moods
her father's
indifference

the latest
rock and roll
long player

she'd bought
he listens
to her talk

smelling her
strong perfume
her red hair

tied in two
ponytails
the freckles

on her skin
she thinking
as they walk

side by side
how he'd look
above her

having ***
in her room
back at home

both naked
and that Jane
watching them

Benny thinks
of the hawk
-sparrowhawk-

he had seen
while with Jane
its power

flying high
hovering
waiting for

the big ****
and Jane's hand
near to his

as they walked
but Lizbeth
talks about

a new dress
she'd been bought
a bright red

with flowers
of yellow
and quite short

and Mother
doesn't like
its shortness

she says it
shows too much
nonetheless

I have it
Lizbeth says
then she stops

you can come
and see it
at some time

at my place
I promise
to be good

Benny says
that he could
-not that he

ever would-
then he tells
her about

seeing the
sparrowhawk
hovering

above them
Jane and him
powerful

and mighty
in the sky
Lizbeth thinks

it boring
just a bird
she muses

wanting him
inside her
in her bed

in her room
but she'll wait
bide her time

like the hawk
for her prey
and have him

some hot day.

Driving home through a mist,
A post by the side of the road
Holds a Sparrowhawk.
Like an everyday totem pole.
Like a carving of an ancient
king.
On a simple wooden throne.
Like wood bird alchemy.
Throwing us a spell.
Like an offering of mystery
In our cocktail
Of certainty.

And she wants to know
how I stuck that time
in London
and not the country

and why did I
not want to be
in the countryside
and it is a sunny day

and clouds are so white
it seems as if an artist
has painted them
and as she speaks

I sense her there
beside me
and she talks
about how her father

manages the church
and how she first
remembered the walk
through snow

when she was young
and how her father
carried her
on his shoulders

and she saw
her first sparrowhawk
and how grand
and powerful it seemed

above them
and I want to be near her
to be able to breath
her in as we walk

and maybe hold
her hand
but I can't
bring myself

to reach out
unless she
does so first
not wanting to seem

presumptuous
or too forward  
and we walk
down the lane

beside my parent's cottage
and talk of London
and how there were
street lamps

and the trains moving
over the railway bridge
all night and coal trucks
being shunted

all the time night
and day
and the dust
of the coal

gets everywhere
but one doesn't notice
and she looks at me
and I want to swim

in her eyes
and she says glad
you're here now
and we are here together

and her hand
touches mine
and I want it
to be there always

her hand in mine
and know it won't
but wish it so
and wish I could

carry her
on my shoulders
through knee deep
white snow.