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The poem below is dedicated to a wonderful Finch called Sandy whose perching days are over.
Perching Blues
Stop all the clocks, cut off the branch,
Prevent the dog from barking with a start.
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the seed, let the birdies come.
Let aeroplanes circle droaning home,
Scribbling on the sky the message He is flown,
Put dickiebows round the necks of the public doves,
Let traffic police make shadow birds with black cotton gloves.
He flew North, to South, to East and West,
He flew for a week then had a rest,
Flew by noon, by night, and sang a song,
I thought that he'd flap forever: 'I was wrong'
The stars are not wanted now, put out every one;
Pack up the trees and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
SANDY R.I.P
If you need cheering up after Sandy's sad demise then you could visit
www.teachingandallthat.blog.co.uk
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