The Robins

Lucifer legs strike the flint earth
sulphur coat in flames he bursts the rain
feathers crackling on the tinder of privet
fuelled by the blood of worms,untouchable
as the sun his sharp song is turned bright
from his scissored beak, musical razor-wire played
around a green encampment, his nest thought safe
at the centre of his mind, while along the roof tops
the white feathers of Magpie lower their black nibs
in the cherished keeps of the Robins speckled eggs
agape mouths already tasting their golden ink.

John G.Hall(c)2003