Strictly For The Birds

At the local cricket club,

white figures swarm on the green turf,

the loud cries of gulls are heard

appealing, but since no-one is batting,

they just sound like lost seagulls

lamenting the lack of dropped chips

and melting ice cream.
 

PC Johnny Crow and his fellows

come to see them off

perhaps wanting the field

to themselves, hoping for left-overs

at the foot of the drystone wall

separating sport from the red rec

- or just because.

A single magpie arrives to dance alone,

dressed in black and white,

the colours of Fred-and-Gingers

the world over, even here,

at half-past six, when the world

and its green spaces

are strictly for the birds.