Rook rollercoasters the wind,
swings down to carousel the tree,
and his mates follow him
swaggering, cocky boys – looking
out for girls and trouble.
Rook rides the branches
like a showman rides the waltzers,
kicks the ghosts out of last year’s nest,
twig hanging nonchalant from black beak.
It’s spring, and the bird cherry
is a carnival queen, and the empty barn
is a tunnel of love.
Another one for dVerse. We like a fairground ride.