08 March 2009

A Fragile Strand Of Unity (rev)

Preening

Whereas I should have been
exercising my mind mentally writing
I was captured by a preening bird
– thoughts ignited in its beauty.

Half concealed by a golden cane
it addressed feathers meticulously,
one eye on me, cagily watching
the watcher.

That it might have been a barred
cuckoo-shrike served no cause
for me, we were eye to eye in
sympathy – it and me.

And I lay in the bubbles of the
spa luxuriating, bird contemplating
which feather to preen, between us
a beer in frosted glass waiting

we were connected
in a fragile strand of unity
bound by its ability to leave
as and when it chose.

And it stayed and preened.
© I.D. Carswell 2007