Young Crow

He sits on the wire

up high above the rooftops.

All black and dishevelled

all gawcky and noisy.

Waiting for breakfast

from mum and from dad.

A shaggy teenager

with too many feathers.

Trying so hard

to get them to lie flat.

Preening and gwaucking

almost falling.

Waiting for breakfast,

for mum and for dad.

A Pennies Worth

The water ripples like a sea snake

along the edge of the reeds.

All along the tow-path

feet skipping over weeds.

Behind me there’s the sloosh and the chug

of the boat.

I smell tea in a tin mug

and wisps of charcoal smoke.

"There's the spot

throw me the rope".

These dragon flies are so very turquoise

and when I stop to listen now

there is no noise.

There are just the wisps of charcoal smoke.

No more sloosh and chug

of the boat.

I can taste the tea in my tin mug.

Just above the reeds on the tow-path

the sun is setting

with a quiet laugh.