And just following from the last post in very quick succession -  a newish, small poem that is a harbinger of spring..

It was loosely inspired by this  - my granny had a bush/tree near her front door which provided shelter to a 'charm' of goldfinch, with their brilliant red cheek flashes and black and gold wings. They'd burst out of  the foliage when we parked nearby or walked past, and were feisty and precious things. 
After she died, some twenty years ago, I was comforted to see and hear the birds thriving in the bush by her door. She also used to 'plant' lollies among the flowers in her flower beds - these precious things are the stuff memories are made of..
My other granny died around the same time. Both were only in their early seventies, and both were very close and dear to me, and I think of them often..and unexpectedly. 


What if I told you a bird,
a brown bird, nibbed and intent,
never seen before,
flew to the quince tree
at the window, lit 
my field of vision.

Bright striped, dun backed
with a pip-seed eye, 
feet drawn into its body,
this new bird called, distinctly,
two days after you left,

all spring turning 
on its song,


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