A train of Jackdaws
hopped on stiletto claw on board
the fifteen forty out of Wolverhampton,
bob tails waggling, beaks opening with wild
inquisitive shrills,
their voices
displaying nothing but the search for worms
in the dirt, the mud a step too far
for the preening old birds
with florescent feathers,
the odd battle scar where the edges were ripped
as they tussled and tore at life…
Finding water
unpalatable, the inexhaustible selfie
drags itself once more into existence
and the high pitched squeal of bird like delight
as feathers ruffle
and beaks slacken;
the Jackdaw, opportunist feeder,
opportunist mate,
finds Spain more appealing
to spread its possible its Gastrointestinal
illnesses
rather than spend time in London
pecking bottle tops and the virus
in their beaks…
in the corner
they huddle, the jackdaws
on the train move on to New Street,
I take flight at Galton Bridge,
unable to stand the speculation
of sex throughout the night,
the cawing and clawing
of ruffled feathers.
Ian D. Hall 2017